


I've Never Had to Knock on Wood, But I Know Someone Who Has

by pickyhandshake



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Thranduil's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickyhandshake/pseuds/pickyhandshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That AU where Legolas is the RA in a uni hall full of boisterous freshmen who find it their mission to cause as much trouble for him as possible, in the form of drunken texts, pranks, misinterpreted crushes and semi-serious feuding. </p><p>  <em>“Galadriel was the strict RA, Gandalf was the one who wouldn’t confiscate your liquor stash as long as you gave him a sip, Boromir was the classic friendly guy-next-door who you could count on to mediate any roommate squabbles, and Saruman was the one constantly snippy from getting off the night shift and who wasn’t above reminding you that you were getting the dreaded freshman fifteen. </em></p><p>  <em>And then there was Legolas, who hadn't batted an eye at any boy until Aragorn came along.”</em></p><p>Aka, that trashy modern uni!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Syllabus Week

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I’m still knee-deep in another fic for a different fandom, so being the highly responsible person I am I’ve started another one at the same time. This fic is sponsored by insomnia, which visited me last night at 4AM and made me google pictures of Orlando Bloom’s face. Disclaimer: of course I own nothing of the original material, you can probably tell by now that I’m too odd to think of cool stuff. 
> 
> Oh! And I only know for certainty American universities and their dorm style, and am not going to even pretend (read: am too lazy to thoroughly google) that I am well-versed in European uni stuff and “A-levels” and what not. So yeah, LOTR is like, filled with swanky British accents and I’m sorry if this ruins that vibe but I’m like, a sloth ok. So yeah sorry dawgs.

Let’s get one thing straight. Legolas had initially done this for the money. 

Ever since Thranduil had disowned him for being gay and stopped giving him a hand with tuition fees, Legolas had had to find a new way to pay the hefty bills. Sure, he had instate tuition, and yes, archery and track and field scholarships, but that still left a grand total of – well, it was a lot.

So when Legolas had stumbled upon the Resident Advisor fair and heard that the position covered both living and eating expenses, he had signed up for an interview without a second thought. 

He wasn’t going to deny it, money had been his sole motivation at that point. But, after training with the other staff members and helping out his first bunch of kids – the ones that moved in early, when it was still technically the summer – he had been surprised at how fun it had been, how at ease he was in the position. 

It had felt great to be of help to new students, especially since he was only in his second year in uni so he still felt a great deal of sympathy to the newcomers. 

Still, he wasn’t quite sure what “type of RA” he was yet. There were four other RAs on his floor, all who seemed to perfectly fit a certain mold. Galadriel was the strict one, Gandalf was the one who wouldn’t confiscate your liquor stash as long as you gave him a sip, Boromir was the classic friendly guy-next-door who you could count on to mediate any roommate squabbles, and Saruman was the one constantly snippy from getting off the night shift and who wasn’t above reminding you that you were getting the dreaded freshman fifteen.*

He supposed it didn’t really matter, he’d figure it out along the way. He was pretty sure that his job wouldn’t entail much more than lifting a couple bags during moving-in day, and unlocking a few doors for the unlucky students that lost their keys. 

He was perfectly content to sit back in his one-bed, single dorm room, and wallow in the quiet peace that was academics and sports practice. 

That was, until the freshmen actually arrived. 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

It was craziness from the very start. 

Legolas was woken by a loud tapping on his door. He glanced at his watch: six AM. He was an early riser, but this? On a day that wasn’t a school day? 

Legolas slid agilely from his bed, slipping into his shoes. He padded over to the door, which was currently being abused by the knuckles of a certain impatient someone.

“Legolas! About time, we need you out here!”

Legolas blinked, staring up – yes, up, for Legolas was not the tallest of fellows and Galadriel was the tallest of gals – at Galadriel’s frown. Her arms were crossed, and she had a harried look on her face.

“Don’t we open the halls at nine?”

Galadriel waved him aside, a strange, frantic gleam in her eyes. “They’ve come early,” she said in hushed tones, as if addressing the coming apocalypse. “C’mon, get dressed, I’ve already got about ten freshers on my hands asking where the toilet is.”

Legolas felt a smile threaten to break out across his face and squashed it down at the look in Galadriel’s eye. Her normally pristine hair was mussed, as if she had just woken up. She was dressed smartly, but her feet were still clad in slippers. 

“Right, I’ll be out in a second.”

“Hurry up! I’ve got Boromir and Saruman out here already but I can’t for the life of me rouse Gandalf.”

Gandalf was probably nursing a hangover from last night – it had been a Friday, after all – but Legolas wisely refrained from telling her so. He changed quickly into a black Mordor University long-sleeve and jeans, pulling his long hair back with loose braids. 

The hall was already bustling with activity when Legolas stepped out again. To his relief, he spotted Gandalf awake and helping a student with her bags, albeit groggily.

“Hey! Are you an RA?”

Legolas swiveled around to face a short, squat boy whose sunny disposition was currently being blocked by several large leather cases. 

“Yes, yes I am,” Legolas said, quickly pulling out his ID from underneath his long-sleeve shirt. “Legolas Greenleaf, sophomore. Let me help you with those,” he added, scooting nearer to the boy and pulling some of the cases out of his arms.

“Thanks,” the boy said gratefully, panting slightly from exertion. “I’d shake your hand, but it seems we’re both preoccupied,” he chuckled. “I’m Ori, freshman.”

“Nice to meet you,” Legolas responded politely. “Where is your room at?”

Ori scrunched his nose up, looking down at a rather grubby piece of paper. “It says, 201A?”

“Great, that’s just around the corner. Follow me,” Legolas hoisted the cases higher up in his arms. “Are these musical instruments?” He asked, recognizing one of the oblong shapes as belonging to a violin from when Thranduil had made him take lessons.

“Yes!” Ori perked up, obviously estatic that Legolas had caught on to the fact. “I’m majoring in music education, and we were highly encouraged to bring our own instruments. What you’re holding is the violin, flute and clarinet cases, so please be careful!”

“Of course,” Legolas said, smiling down at him. He hadn’t taken up violin with as much gusto as Thranduil had wished, but he still held great respect for the instrument and those that played it. 

“Do you play violin?” Ori asked interestedly. 

“I used to.” 

“Why did you stop?”

Legolas shrugged, quickening his pace unconsciously. Ori looked at him curiously, but seemed to recognize the topic as less than comfortable and moved on. 

They continued their conversation on the way to Ori’s room. Legolas learned that Ori had two older brothers, twins who also lived on the second floor. They were two years older than Ori, but since he had skipped a grade he was only one year behind them in school. The twins, Dwalin and Balin, were apparently avid scientists whose many experiments – oftentimes including fire and resulting mini explosions – made their mother slightly relieved when they went off to university though she missed them dearly. 

Ori was quick to divulge this information, an open book equipped with an infectious smile. Legolas warmed to him immediately, grateful the student moving into his hall was friendly. Of course, Saruman chose that moment to appear, spoiling the otherwise pleasant atmosphere.

“Have your hands full already, Greenleaf?” The tall, pale youth looked them up and down, curling his lip when he saw Ori. “And it looks like this one’s already started the fifteen.”

“Give it a rest, Saruman,” Legolas frowned. That one was a bit far, even for him. “Don’t you have some poor, hapless freshman to ‘help’?”

Saruman glared, but moved on without a word.

“Who was that?” Ori asked from behind Legolas, as if he had shifted there when he saw Saruman coming. “He didn’t seem very friendly, but he has an RA ID?”

“That was Saruman, proof that not all RAs are nice. The other RAs have gotten to calling him ‘Sour-man.’ And don’t listen to what he said, he’s just a senior year grumpy that he hasn’t graduated yet.”

Ori nodded, seeming reassured at Legolas’ words. Legolas felt surprised; he hadn’t expected that to work, or for him to feel so relieved that it had.

“Here we are,” he announced, as the pair stopped in front of room 201. “A is on the left side, B on the right. The keys to the closet should be attached to the ID you got at the front desk.” 

“Thanks!” Ori pushed his cases into the room, which already had posters on the walls. It seemed his roommate had moved in before him.

“If you need any more help, don’t hesitate to ask,” Legolas added. “My room is 222, on the east side of the building.”

“Awesome, I’ll drop by later,” Ori said. Then he surprised Legolas by jotting down his phone number and handing it to Legolas. “Here, just so we can keep in touch easier.” Ori grinned at Legolas’ bemusement. “Don’t worry, I don’t swing that way or anything. Just a friendly gesture.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Thanks,” Legolas said, his words coming out stilted despite himself. He put the paper in his pocket. 

As Legolas made his way down the hall, he couldn’t help but replay the conversation. Don’t worry, I don’t swing that way or anything. Would Ori have cared if Legolas did “swing that way”? Legolas didn’t really make an effort to hide it, though he hadn’t told anyone, either. Only Thranduil, and look how spectacularly that turned out. 

Still, once he had told Thranduil, Legolas found it pointless to disguise his sexuality with anyone else. The worst reaction possible had already happened, what was the point? Rather, it would be worse to go back to pretending he was straight after telling his father. It would have made all his efforts unnecessary. 

But then he had gone and said, Oh. Okay, then. Like some stumbling fool that would have been put off if Ori had meant something else by giving Legolas his phone number. And hell, did that make him come across as not only straight, which he wasn’t and didn’t want to pretend to be, but homophobic? Which he definitely wasn’t, and definitely didn’t want to pretend to be.

Legolas’ internal monologue was pushed aside as he was interceded by another anxious-looking freshman who introduced himself as Fili and have you seen my brother, he’s just visiting and went to the bathroom a while ago and I think he lost his way back to my room? 

After the Search for Kili, which somehow included Ori and several other rather eager, mischievous freshmen, Legolas helped several other students move in. 

He met Pippin, and also Merry, freshmen who were already getting along fabulously with each other. They had thrown themselves headlong into the Search for Kili, most likely making the search more difficult in the process with their yelling and running around. Moving into the room next to his was Bilbo, sophomore, who had brought along with him an assortment of potted plants. Legolas also met Balin and Dwalin, the science twins, who sported ginger beards similar to Ori’s. Then there had been Sam, a quiet freshman, all messy curls, who introduced his goldfish before introducing himself. 

It wasn’t until four in the afternoon when the tide started dying down, with only a trickle of students entering the hall with suitcases. 

Boromir flopped next to Legolas on the couch in the second floor lounge, looking as tired as Legolas felt.

“God, if I have to haul around one more suitcase…” Boromir trailed off, clunking his feet onto the table in front of them. Even though it was mid-August the teen still wore thick brown boots. Pit-stains were forming around his red flannel tee.

“You look like a regular hipster,” Legolas commented, giving his colleague a once-over. “Look, you’ve got a man-bun and everything.”

Boromir barked out a laugh, poking Legolas in the side. “Shut up,” he said.

Legolas flinched away from the contact before he could stop himself. Boromir stared, then an ashen look took over his face.

“Oh God, Legolas, I -- ”

“It’s okay,” Legolas said quickly, raising his hands in placation. “I know. You were just joking.” He settled himself back against the cushions, trying to look as if his fingers weren’t shaking.

Boromir was quiet for a moment. “Legolas, you know you could have come to me, right? You didn’t have to become an RA for housing, if that’s what’s happening here. We could have gotten an apartment and I’d pay rent for a while, or – or something.”

Legolas was taken aback for a moment at the unexpected gesture. He knew Boromir was his closest friend, having met him freshmen year as his randomly assigned roommate. But he hadn’t made many friends – not that he had really tried, if he were honest, but that was just his way – and Boromir was kind of his only friend, also. But Boromir was extroverted, affectionate and easygoing, someone who got along with everyone, even Sour-man. He hadn’t thought Boromir had valued him as much as Legolas had valued Boromir. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “But it’s really alright. I like being an RA, and besides, that would mean you couldn’t have been one.”

Boromir grinned. “Okay, but I would have still tried to help. I’d sneak you into my dorm room.”

Legolas smiled back. “Careful, you wouldn’t want the freshmen to hear such unlawful declarations. Bed-to-person ratio in all rooms.”

Boromir laughed, then quickly sombered. “Seriously though, Leg - ”

Boromir was cut off as three new faces and one familiar one entered the floor lounge. Legolas recognized the familiar face as Cherub – no, that was the goldfish, it was Sam. He was closely following a broad-shouldered redhead and two darker-haired figures, the tallest of which seemed to be the leader.

“Hey! They have foosball in here!” the redhead shouted, running forward to the table football centered in the middle of the lounge area.

“Where’s the ball?” The tall one asked, and Legolas was distracted for a moment by the way his voice sounded before he realized the question was directed to him.

“Oh. The ball. Right, you have to ask one of us RAs for it,” Legolas explained.

“What? That’s a stupid rule,” the redhead said petulantly, looking at the tall one who didn’t seem to be looking back yet.

“Yeah, er, it’s a bit complicated, sure. But people kept losing the ball, so we decided to keep tabs on who used it last.”

“Makes sense,” the tall one said, making the redhead shoot him a traitorous look. “I’m Aragorn, by the way, and this is Gimli. And those two,” Aragorn gestured over to the others still standing by the doorway, “are Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee.”

“Baggins?” Boromir perked up. “You brothers with Bilbo Baggins, then?”

“Cousins,” Frodo said. His voice was light and soft, and his bright blue eyes were wide. He looked around the room with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. 

“So?” Gimli shifted impatiently. “Are we gonna play, or what?” 

“Let me go grab the ball,” Boromir said, jumping off the couch and darting through the doorway. 

A silence descended upon the room, one inevitable for strangers but awkward nonetheless. 

Legolas felt it was his duty to break it, despite being the caterpillar in the social butterfly metaphor, since he was the RA. 

“So, what are your guys’ majors?” he asked.

“Education,” Sam piped up, speaking for the first time since he had entered the room. He looked a little taken aback at his own boldness, making Legolas smile inwardly. It was clear Sam was truly passionate about his major, which was good.

“I’m here on a football scholarship,” Gimli said, pointing at his Mordor University athletic wear. “But I’m majoring in Economics in case I don’t go pro.” Gimli said it all with the confidence and swagger of one who seemed sure he would go pro, but Legolas wasn’t fooled. He knew cockiness was oftentimes a cloak for uncertainty.

“I’m studying animal science,” Aragorn supplied, making Legolas raise his eyebrows. That was a first, he hadn’t even known Mordor University offered degrees in animal science, in all honesty. He wouldn’t have expected the statement from someone clad in what looked to be leather.

“It’s not actual leather,” Aragorn answered for him a split second later, watching where Legolas was looking. “It just looks like leather.” 

“I don’t know what my major is yet,” Frodo said suddenly. He bit his lip, staring at Legolas. “That’s okay, right? I mean, we’re just freshmen. We don’t have to know, like…right away, right?”

Legolas grinned. “Don’t worry. Take your time, and explore your options. That way, when you do decide, you’ll know it’s something you truly love. I didn’t choose architecture until my second semester here.”

“What year are you now?” Frodo asked curiously.

“I’m a sophomore.”

“Wow, pretty young to be an RA over the freshmen,” Frodo said, grinning.

Legolas snorted, glad Frodo wasn’t anxious anymore. “Trust me, a lot can happen in a year.”

“Yeah, like wild par -- ” Gimli caught Legolas’ eye. “Par…part-time jobs,” he finished lamely. “Wild part-time jobs.”

Legolas grinned as the others burst into laughter. 

“Great save, Gimli,” Aragorn snorted. 

“That’s alright, it’s not a secret that there are parties at college, and I wouldn’t expect you all to abstain from going even as your RA. Just be careful and don’t come back wildly intoxicated.”

“Who’s wildly intoxicated?” Boromir of course chose this moment to return, foosball ball in hand and a confused, yet amused look on his face. “Legolas is smiling, so I’m assuming he’s the intoxicated one in question.”

Legolas grinned wider at that, though something irked him slightly at the comment, nagging at the back of his mind. 

It wasn’t until later, after several frenzied foosball matches – all of which hailed Aragon as king champion – that Legolas realized what that nagging thought was. Legolas is smiling, Boromir had said, as if Legolas didn’t do it enough. Which, maybe he didn’t, but that was alright with him. It was just hard for other people to understand. Which again, was okay for him. He had long since resolved himself into his architecture work and his running and archery practice. There wasn’t much else he needed, really. 

At least, that was what he kept telling himself. 

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***  
The rest of the week passed in a hasty blur, memories and faces and moments superimposing on each other like the result of a bad trip. Legolas chalked it all up to being tired. Not only was it physically exhausting, trading night shifts with morning ones and running around the halls rescuing poor souls that were locked out of their rooms after showering, but it was mentally tiring to help answer everyone’s questions with a smile and polite conversation. 

It was still syllabus week, which meant that professors weren’t really teaching much material in their classes and were still going over an outline of the expected coursework. Still, a few of Legolas’ teachers had foregone this tradition and assigned drafts for a museum that had Legolas up all night, juggling sketching and reassuring Frodo that being undeclared was not the end of the world.

The younger boy had popped into his room – doors open during the day, as per policy – three or four times already this week, informing Legolas with bits of trivia about new potential majors. Legolas hadn’t known Mordor had had so many until now.

Still, his newfound appreciation for being an RA was growing every day. It was a special feeling, connecting with students in this way, being able to help instead of depend on someone else for once. He had been raised to act upon Thranduil’s words, and depend on his finances, all his life. And now, he had cut both poisons down in one fell blow, by supporting himself as an RA and being out. 

Not that anyone knew he was out. Hell, Legolas still wasn’t quite sure if he wanted anyone to know. But it didn’t really matter, because – well, none of it really mattered. Legolas wasn’t interested in romance, that much he knew for sure. 

But he hadn’t been interested in friendships either, until he had met Boromir, and now the other RAs, and the incoming students. Ori had popped by to say a quick hello to Legolas a few hours after Legolas had shown him to his room, surprising the older boy by remembering his promise. 

Eventually, syllabus week had passed, and the residents of the second floor had gotten used to a routine in their hall. Legolas thought that this meant things would settle down, and he would probably go back to the routine of academics and practice like last year, like always.

That was what he had been thinking as he tacked up his contact information with tape on his front door. It was required for all RAs to inform the residents of their shift hours, and provide a phone number in which the students could reach them. 

It was an innocuous act really, or so Legolas had thought. But with that simple act, the adventures were just beginning.


	2. What Happens on Saturdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh…my…god.” Aragorn was in stitches, clutching his sides as he laughed that wild way of his.
> 
> “They are _so dead,_ ” Legolas breathed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before the true archery nerds join forces and kick me in my sloth hiney I shall state in advance that I KNOW NOTHING. And I basically just wanted to sprinkle archery in this story to make Legolas more in character and also because Aragorn would find it sexy (I mean, who wouldn’t). I’m trash, I know. Join me in the dumpster. 
> 
> In addition: slow build, my friends, slow build. Slow and steady wins the ship.

“Ugh, Legolas, how do you do it?”

Legolas looked up from where he had been tying the laces of his boots. Boromir stood, square-shouldered and gloomy, in the doorway to his room. His bun had loosened throughout the day so that his fair hair swept down across his cheeks, giving his eyes uncharacteristic shadows.

“What’s that now?” Legolas resumed tying his laces, satisfied that no freshman (read: Frodo) was at his door with their latest academic crises.

“Galadriel. How do you put up with her? She’s so…so…” Boromir paused, looking up at the air as if trying to name unsatisfactory wine after sipping it. “… _repugnant_.”

Legolas must have looked amused, because Boromir’s expression darkened.

“Hey!”

“My bad,” Legolas said cheerfully, lacing his other boot. “But where did you get that word, straight out of the SAT prep books? And anyways, I think the adjective you’re really looking for is – _pretty_.”

“Excuse me?” Boromir looked horrified. “She is an absolute nightmare, I’m in no way attracted to her hair or her smell.”

“Who mentioned her hair or smell?” Legolas shifted his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Ugh. No! She’s – so stubborn about everything. Last afternoon she told me off for not holding the door open for a freshman even though I had my arms full. Like, sorry, I know they are new here but they have always had hands, yeah?”

Legolas plucked his bow from his bed, rising lithely to stand next to Boromir. “Careful, or people might not believe you when you say you want to go into public relations.”

Boromir rolled his eyes genially. “For the last time, Legolas, PR does not mean I have to be nice to people, it just means I have to know how they work.”

“Yes, but you are nice to people. Which is why Galadriel is a strange, strange exception.”

Boromir stared. “Because she’s driving me crazy!”

“With lo-ove,” Legolas added.

“No. The opposite is true.”

“Who’s in love?” Pippin poked his head into Legolas’ room, brightening when he saw the two. As per usual, Merry followed close behind him. “Hey guys!”

“Nobody’s in love with how golden her hair is,” Boromir said quickly. He quelled Legolas’ smirk with a playful glare. “You two are too similar, that’s what it is. Both lovers of rules and sticklers of silence.”

“Who’s too similar? And where are you off to, Legolas?” Pippin asked.

“Archery practice,” Legolas said, lifting his bow. “And I’ve got to run actually, it’s all the way across campus.”

He made to leave the room, trusting Boromir to guard it while he was out, only to find his way blocked by Merry. The other boy was scrutinizing the sheet tacked on Legolas’ wall with great curiosity.

“Hey, is this your phone number?” Merry asked, ushering Pippin to come and look.

“Yeah,” Legolas said, a feeling of slow apprehension trickling through him. “Only for emergencies, though,” he felt the need to add.

Merry looked up at him, a twinkle in his eye. “Of course,” he said, at the same time as Pippin.

Legolas shook his head, unnerved, and walked into the hallway. He shot a meaningful backwards glance towards Boromir that said, _guard my stuff, bro._

Boromir nodded back, also looking at Merry and Pippin with apprehension.

Out in the hallway, Legolas bumped into Gandalf, who was sporting his usual quirky garb of long robes, flip flops, and a dusty, pointed hat.

“’Morning,” Legolas said automatically.

“What do you mean?” Gandalf said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not, or that you feel good this morning, or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“Erm…right,” Legolas said, side-stepping the guy and walking hurriedly on. How Gandalf managed to light one up this early in the morning was beyond him.

* * *

The bus was crowded when it finally pulled up to Legolas’ stop. He stepped on, wincing inwardly as his muscles ached. It had been too long since he had last practiced. He shuddered at the thought of simply pulling his bow back again tomorrow, but it was really his own fault for not practicing more over the summer.

Since it was still summer, it was still light out despite practice having gone on for most of the Saturday. Legolas was thoroughly parched. He had run out of water halfway through practice, and in the summer heat that was a nightmare. The archery fields were too far away from any building that might have a water fountain – the bus stop alone was a good three blocks away.

Not many people were on the bus, since it was a weekend. Legolas trotted over to the back, ready to slouch down into a seat and simply lie there in his own sweat and agony until his stop came up.

To his surprise, someone was lying stretched out in the backseat, shades over his face.

“Aragorn?”

The supine figure jerked upright, slapping at his sunglasses. “Mmfhuh?”

Legolas stared down at him. “Aragorn, have you been sleeping here all day?”

Aragorn succeeded in pulling himself upright, sunglasses askew over one (very red) ear.

“…No, ‘course not.”

Legolas plopped into the seat across from him, trying not to laugh. “It’s alright, it happens.”

Aragorn looked at him obstinately. “My stop is coming up soon!” he protested.

“I’m sure it was,” Legolas placated. “A few hours ago.”

Aragorn sighed, pushing his hands through his unruly hair. Legolas was starting to realize it always looked that way. It suited him.

“I was trying to go to the shopping district, to get some groceries. It’s a lot farther than I anticipated, and I must have…dozed off.”

Legolas patted his arm, truly feeling sympathetic now. Aragorn looked like a dejected puppy, all clad in not-actually-leather-leather. “It’s fine, I’m pretty sure Boromir and I did that last year when we were trying to visit the next town over. We managed to wake up just in time for the stop but we did sleep the whole way.”

Aragorn nodded, but he was looking at Legolas with a different expression this time. Legolas shirked back, not recognizing that look.

“Anyways, our stop – if you’re trying to get back to dorms now, as it’s late – is coming up in about four stops,” Legolas said.

“Right.” Aragorn smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.” But the odd look was back.

“So you – and Boromir?”

“Sorry?”

“You and Boromir.”

“Saying it in a different tone isn’t going to make it any clearer,” Legolas laughed, then stopped when he realized what Aragorn was asking.

“Oh. We’re uh – good friends, is all.” Legolas stared ahead, at the line of empty grey bus seats. If he listened carefully, he could hear the bus driver radio playing jazz.

“Mmm. Ok. But that’d be okay, you know. If you and Boromir were – you know.”

Legolas peered sideways at Aragorn. “Ok,” he said, even though he felt like he should say more. The conversation with Ori during syllabus week flashed back to him, vivid and sour. He wondered why he didn’t feel more apprehensive. Perhaps it was the way Aragorn said it, as if he truly meant it, despite his vagueness.

“I know I am – you know.”

Aragorn said it soft, as if the jazz wasn’t playing and the bus driver, the only other person on the bus now, could hear them. As if he hadn’t said it before, and Legolas suddenly got the impression that perhaps that were true. He felt the confusion of being the recipient of Aragorn’s sudden brevity, the joy of being his confidant, the burden of being responsible, for surely his position as an RA labeled him as some sort of listening ear - god knows Frodo saw it that way. For the most part he was pleased by this, surprised at his own cavalier acceptance of his newfound appreciation for people. But of course it was only because he was an RA. Frodo didn’t really know him, and Aragorn certainly didn’t. In the span of time Legolas had known him, the two of them had only spoken during that fooseball game.

“Right,” Legolas said stupidly, trying to sound both understanding and authoritative in one go, cringing inwardly when Aragorn looked slightly crestfallen. He thought he ought to say ‘thank you,’ as one does when they are bestowed with a confession, but what if that were rude? As if Aragorn needed to be thanked for being who he was. He had to say something more though, he knew he should. Maybe, ‘I am, too?’ What if Aragorn took it the wrong way and thought Legolas was hitting on him now that he knew Aragorn’s sexuality?

Surely something so innate shouldn’t be so complicated.

But it was.

Not for the first time, insidious doubt crept into Legolas’ mind. Doubt, which brought sorrow along for tea. Maybe Thranduil was right about him. Things would change. Legolas crossed his arms over his chest as if cold, feeling the strands of self-protection and confidence he had built over the summer dissolving like candy floss.

“Hey,” he felt a light tap on his elbow, making him jump slightly. Aragorn was giving him a concerned look. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” God, he was stupid. Here Aragorn was, outing himself to Legolas and all Legolas could do in response was think of his own issues. What kind of RA was he?

“I’m glad you felt you could share that with me,” Legolas said. He mustered up a smile for Aragorn, feeling a rush of relief when Aragorn gave him one in return. There. This wasn’t so hard. He could do this, play the part of the helpful RA. He had to do it, for Aragorn’s sake. How great it would have been, to have someone to listen to him last year. He could make that difference, only for other people.

Legolas noticed a spot of color outside the bus window. “This is our stop,” he added.

Aragorn was much more loose after that. On their walk back to the dorm, he chatted with Legolas about his first week of classes, which professors he liked, which ones he didn’t and which ones inevitably didn’t like him – I know it’s an animal science classroom but it’s not real leather! – as well as how awfully Gimli, who turned out to be his roommate, snored and the weird cabbage-like things he kept in the fridge.

Talking with Aragorn was easy, like listening to the rain on a Sunday morning. Aragorn was patient when Legolas tried to find the right words to describe what it felt like to hit the target on the first try, and laughed when Legolas told him how many times Frodo had come into his room with some abstract question about his purpose in life. They both agreed Sam’s goldfish was cute sweet and Sour-man was definitely not.

“Did you know,” Legolas was saying, as they reached the second floor, “Saruman actually stole my shower shoes once?”

“No way,” Aragorn said.

“Seriously. I left them behind in a shower stall one time and had to go back for them, but when I did they were gone – and the next day I saw him walking around with them!”

Aragorn barked out a laugh. “Did you confront him about it?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“God, but they were ugly shoes,” Legolas said, making Aragorn laugh again. His laugh sounded a bit wild, not sculpted the way some of the freshmen girls had laughed when Legolas looked their way. More genuine than that, Legolas decided. He quite liked Aragorn’s laugh.

“Holy shit,” Aragorn swore, as they reached Legolas’ door. He was standing in front of Legolas, and to his dismay was a good head taller than him, so Legolas couldn’t see what was going on.

“What’s up?” Legolas asked, befuddled. Aragorn stepped aside so Legolas could see.

His jaw dropped. His bow landed with a soft clatter on the floor as it dropped from his slack grip. Inside his room, the room he had specifically _guard my room bro’d_  to Boromir, was a tapestry of tinfoil. Every single one of his belongings, including his bedsheets and pillowcase, had been wrapped in aluminum foil.

“Oh…my…god.” Aragorn was in stitches, clutching his sides as he laughed that wild way of his.

“They are _so dead,_ ” Legolas breathed out.

“Who? How do you know who it was?”

Legolas gave him a look.

“You’re right, it was totally Merry and Pippin,” Aragorn agreed.

“BOROMIR!” Legolas slipped his bow back over his shoulder and sped off in the direction of his friend’s room, Aragorn hot on his heels. As they ran, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER:** _Hope you like your room’s new ‘foilage’!_

 **UNKNOWN NUMBER:** _It’s Pippin, by the way. I don’t want to give myself up but hell I’m sure you’ve guessed already and now you can have my number too! Hooray!_

Legolas tossed his phone towards Aragorn, who caught it swiftly. He read it with a snicker, which Legolas ignored in favor of knocking on Boromir’s door.

Boromir answered it quickly, a broad grin on his face. “Sup, Leggy.”

Legolas pushed his bow in Boromir’s direction. “You! I told you to guard my room against those two!”

Boromir simply grinned at him. “You did not say any such thing.”

“What! I – I implied it! With the Look!” Legolas spluttered.

“What Look?” Boromir asked innocently.

Legolas boggled at him. “Oh god. Don’t tell me you _helped_ them?”

Boromir looked away innocently. “What are you gonna do? Tell Galadriel on me? If you had lended a bro a listening ear earlier…perhaps I wouldn’t have told a certain pair of people how much extra tinfoil we’ve got laying about in the kitchens.”

“You’re going to wish on your hipster man-bun you hadn’t done that.”

Boromir grinned down at him. “What are you going to do? Face it, you’re no match for Merry and Pippin. Nobody is.”

Hmm. Maybe not alone, he wasn’t. Legolas backed away out of the room, shoving Aragorn around the corner out of sight. Boromir watched him go with a smug look on his face.

“What are you – why?” Aragorn protested, feet skidding against the threadbare carpet.

“Shh, shh,” Legolas pressed one finger to Aragorn’s lips, which thankfully quieted him immediately. “I’m about to engage in one of the most risky endeavors of my life. A retaliation prank against Merry and Pippin and by extension Boromir, which may result in an all out war. Are you in, or are you out?”

Aragorn grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: My character Gandalf recites some lines from the genuine Gandalf character; all creds to Tolkein for his wise words that I used as carrots for my plot bunnies. I will try to update more frequently! 
> 
> -> Pls let me know your thoughts! Comments and feedback are more precious to me than the Ring was to Gollum. <3


	3. The Things that Go Buzz in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he realized this was real life and not all just a bad dream, Legolas typed back. 
> 
> **LEGOLAS** : _Going to need more than a ‘pls.’_
> 
> Legolas thought for a moment, then added: _And do none of you fellows understand the terms ‘Legolas’ phone’ and ‘is for’ and ‘emergencies’?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update, quick chapter. A bit goofy, a bit sentimental. Sam’s a sweetheart, and luckily for him Legolas can’t cook for squat so takeaway is valid payment. You’ll see what I mean.

BUZZ.

 

“Ugh.”

 

BUZZ. BUZZ.

 

“Seriously.”

 

BUZZ.

 

“Agh. Ugh.”

 

Legolas groped around in the dark until his hand hit sleek metal. He pushed one of the buttons on his phone, looking away quickly when the bright light shone out at him. He sneaked a glance at the screen, glimpsing the time on the monitor.

_3:08 AM._

“Gah.” Legolas was tempted to roll back onto his side when the phone in his hand obstinately buzzed again.

 

 **GIMLI (3:08 AM):** _do u know how 2 get from friskys back 2 dorm? pls._

 

Legolas squinted at the screen, trying not to tear up from the bright light and the fact that this was his life now. There were four other unread messages time stamped before that one.

 

**GIMLI (2:59 AM):** _hey, whats that app ppl use 2 get rides around cmpus again ..?_

 

 **GIMLI (3:01 AM):** _lassos trying to get back 4rom friskys._

 

**GIMLI (3:03 AM):** _was it uber?*_

 

 **GIMLI (3:05 AM):** _jst found out how much we have to pay for that shit. not worth._

And so, **GIMLI (3:08 AM):** _do u know how 2 get from friskys back 2 dorm? pls._

 

As smashed as Gimli probably was, the texts actually made sense. “Lassos” was the code name for Legolas’ band of pranksters, the name originating from his own name and the play on the word “lasso,” as their group dubbed Merry and Pippin’s group the “cattle” (surprisingly it was Sam who took the initiative to name their group this way). The Lassos included Legolas, who had recruited Aragorn, who had recruited Gimli, who had been followed by Frodo and Sam. The Cattle were comprised of Merry, Pippin, Boromir, Fili and when they could rouse him, Gandalf. Ori sort of deviated between the two groups as bonus manpower.

 

Frisky’s, simply enough, was a popular bar on Mordor campus.

 

Once he realized this was real life and not all just a bad dream, Legolas typed back.

 

**LEGOLAS:** _Going to need more than a ‘pls.’_

Legolas thought for a moment, then added: _And do none of you fellows understand the terms ‘Legolas’ phone’ and ‘is for’ and ‘emergencies’?_

A few seconds later, Gimli replied.

 

**_GIMLI:_ ** _Dis is emergency. Getting cold now at nite. And Uber too expensive._

**LEGOLAS:** _Should have thought about that before going to Frisky’s._

**_GIMLI:_ ** _Pls. Legolas. Don’t be a Legol-ass. I will get all of the lassos 2 text u until you help._

And sure enough, a few minutes later:

 

**FRODO:** _no sleep 4 u._

**SAM:** _I’m sorry but please help?_

 

**FRODO:** _none_

**SAM:** _We’re properly lost._

**FRODO:** _4_

**SAM:** _And Gimli looks about to pass out any second now._

**FRODO:** _u._

**LEGOLAS (to GIMLI):** _ugh. YOU OWE ME TAKEOUT FOOD. Where are you at?_

 

**GIMLI:** _dis big tree_

 

**LEGOLAS:** _? Street name?_

**GIMLI:** _tree corner_

**LEGOLAS:** _Gimli. There’s no street named Tree Corner in Mordor._

**GIMLI:** _well there should b. cuz there’s a big tree here. It wud make sense as a name_

Legolas sighed. Gimli was obviously of no functioning capability anymore. Legolas texted the most sensible voice he had heard since he had been woken at this ungodly hour.

 

**LEGOLAS (to SAM):** _street name? I can give you guys directions from there to here._

**SAM:** _I don’t know. Sorry! But it looks like there is a volcano here or something. If that helps ???_

**LEGOLAS:** _volcano?????? There’s no volcanoes in Mordor SAM._

**SAM:** _sorry, auto correct. “big tree.” Siri being stupid!_

**LEGOLAS:** _how did that even – ok. Nvm. Can you look to see if there’s a street sign? ?_

**SAM:** _there’s nothing out here. Sorry!! I really think we are lost. In the middle of nowhere ): ):_

**FRODO:** _NO SLEEP 4 U, UNTIL U HELP US._

**LEGOLAS (to SAM):** _ok, hold on. Do you see a white bench with a small roof over it near you guys? Like a mini pavilion?_

**SAM:** _yes! Looks like a castle in this dark lighting._

**LEGOLAS:** _!!! I know where you are @! It’s Minas-tirith St, adjacent to Gondor Avenue. You just have to keep going North until you reach Rohan St. Let me know once you’re there, & I’ll text you where to go next._

**SAM:** _ok THANK YOU LEGOLAS but I have some bad news, my phone is running out of battery and Gimli’s is already out 2. Aragorn’s ran out while we were at Frisky’s which is y he didn’t text you. Frodo won’t let me touch his. WHAT2 DO??_

**LEGOLAS:** _oh_

**LEGOLAS:** _hey, Sam_

**SAM:** _?_

**LEGOLAS:** _you know that cord that attaches to your phone and a wall socket.?_

**SAM:** _yeah?_

**LEGOLAS:** _oh ok then, just checking that you KNOW HOW TO CHARGE YOUR PHONE?_

**SAM:** _):_

Legolas felt guilty after that. Sam was genuinely the sweetest guy Legolas knew. It wasn’t his fault they were in this mess, not really.

 

**LEGOLAS:** _ok, hold on. I’ll come get you guys. STAY WHERE YOU ARE._

**SAM:** _THANK YOU. YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND._

**LEGOLAS: …** _after Cherub though, yeah?_

**SAM:** _yeah._

Legolas rubbed the sleep from his eyes resignedly. He was going to go out into the night that was getting progressively colder as the school year dawdled on, at what was now around 4AM, when he had to go to class in just under four hours. He yawned violently, slipping on his trainers and not even bothering to braid his hair back. No amount of free takeaway was worth this.

 

He rose, thin sweatpants falling just under his hipbones at the motion, and pulled his jacket over his loose long-sleeve.

 

Legolas was just about to head out when his phone buzzed one last time.

 

**FRODO:** _NO SLEEP 4 U!_

* * *

 

Legolas was just shutting the door to his room when someone loomed out of the hallway’s shadows.

 

“Where do you think you’re going, Legolas?”

 

Legolas clutched his chest. “Jesus! Saruman, warn a fellow next time.”

 

His tone was light but his heart was racing. Saruman looked at him oddly, as if he could tell.s

 

“It’s going to be your turn to take over the shift.”

 

Legolas zipped his jacket up. “Right, well technically I’m taking the shift a bit early. I’m about to go help Gimli and his friends make their way back to the dorm.”

 

Saruman frowned. “Why did they call you instead of me? They know you’re off shift right now.”

 

Legolas shrugged uncomfortably. He suddenly felt a little bad for the man. Saruman was a decent RA, despite his rather sour tongue.

 

“Not sure.” Which was the honest truth. “But uh, I gotta run, so – would you mind covering for me until I get back?”

 

Saruman pinned him down with a glare. “You’ll owe me a favor.”

 

Legolas felt uneasy, for a reason he could not explain. “Okay, fine.”

 

Saruman looked appeased. “Go,” he said commandingly, as if this had all been his idea in the first place.

 

Gimli hadn’t been exaggerating, it was indeed brisk outside when Legolas stepped out into the night. The moon was shining clear in the sky above him, almost full and washing everything with a pale glow.

 

It was only outside the confines of his dorm room that Legolas allowed himself the thought that had been nagging on his mind as soon as Sam had said it to him, _Aragorn’s ran out while we were at Frisky’s, that’s why he didn’t text you._

 

And Legolas was a bit relieved at the implication that, had he been able to, Aragorn would have texted Legolas alongside the rest of them.

 

Legolas let himself think it, because the night was so cavernous around him that it would swallow the confession up with ease, in silence. Despite the thought having never been heard.

 

Legolas had gotten a lot closer with Aragorn over their sequence of days captaining the Lassos. A ridiculous name, they both agreed, but found amusement in it all the same. Together they had put water balloons on the top of Pippin’s fan, so that when he turned it on he would get a splash of a surprise. And when the Cattle had retaliated by sticking all of Aragorn’s furniture on his room’s ceiling, they glued Merry’s favorite foose ball ball onto the table, so the players couldn’t kick it (although Galadriel had had a stern word with them about that one).

 

Sure, the others had helped, and Ori too when they could get to him before the others, but mostly it was Legolas and Aragorn scheming together and telling the rest what to do. It was probably insane to bond over being so dark, but never once had Aragorn texted Legolas and despite how clichéd it sounded Legolas thought that a text would mean something.

 

Legolas realized he had stopped walking at that last thought. Did he want Aragorn to text him? If texting meant something, did he want it? Dare he want it? The implications of what that could mean made him feel frozen, alone with only the moon as his witness. He was walking towards Aragorn right now.

 

And what was wrong with that? Legolas almost wanted to say it, wished he could speak it, knew who needed to hear it was not around – his father had made it clear he would not to listen to Legolas. And so he forced himself to move forward.

 

They were huddled underneath a large, barren white tree when Legolas found them. Gimli lay at their feet, sound asleep. Frodo, with his head in Sam’s lap, both dozing lightly. And Aragorn, Aragorn with his eyes wide open, waiting for Legolas to arrive.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Uber is an app-based company that allows people to get rides from one destination to another by a licensed driver. Kind of like a taxi, but with anybody’s car. If this is a crappy explanation and you know it, clap your hands. Pretty sure they have this in a lot of other countries, but it’s definitely in most if not all American states.
> 
> Comments and feedback = love. Please let me know what you think, but don’t be a Legol-ass <3  
> 


	4. Precious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Legolas saw Grima approaching and flinched, raising one shaky hand up like a barrier._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“Stay back,” he said fiercely. “Stay the hell back.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Okay, okay,” Grima said, Gollum a shocked shadow behind him. “It’s okay. Easy man, easy.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“What the hell is going on?” A new voice thundered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all divine. Thank you for comments & kudos and for not thinking Mordor University is an insane idea (or if you do, for going along with the wild ride). 
> 
> In which, we learn more of Legolas' backstory, Aragorn's feelings and other precious things. As you'll soon be able to tell, I am having way too much fun with these LOTR easter eggs.

To say Legolas was stressed would be an understatement. It was only the third month of classes. The leaves outside had just started to turn a crisp red, tiptoeing to the edge of their branches. And yet Legolas was already swamped with coursework and archery practice. And of course, his RA responsibilities.

 

Legolas felt like a clown that had lied on his resume: _Can take pies in face. Can juggle numerous objects._ The second part was turning out to be abysmally false. He was becoming horrible at juggling all his responsibilities.

 

But Legolas sadly had the misfortune of finding out firsthand that the pie part was quite true. Pippin had ambushed him a few weeks back with an apple-pecan pie in the face, after the Lassos had slipped fake love letters under the Cattle’s dorm room doors. 

 

Seeing Merry’s face at receiving what he thought to be a love letter from Pamela in room 406 was completely worth the pie, in Legolas’ humble opinion. Apple-pecan turned out to be his favorite flavor of pastry, anyway.

 

The pranking had died down now that the semester was fully underway. Instead of jumping at his very shadow, Legolas was able to safely put his guard down when he patrolled the halls at night. They had all, the Lassos and Cattle both (and Ori, though he never instigated anything on his own), come to an unspoken truce that studying came before scheming.

 

It was probably good that they all turned out to be a pack of nerds like him, Legolas thought. If someone pie’d him in the face right now, he wouldn’t be responsible for whatever his stress-induced self did. 

 

Legolas sighed loudly, burying his face in his arms. His door was still open, as per RA policy, but nobody really stopped by at this hour. 

 

It was already midnight on a Friday — well, now technically Saturday. On a typical Friday night, the dorms usually emptied as people went out to parties or the lounges for movie night. On this atypical midterm-eve, most were all buried in their rooms like they were squirrels and the test would be chock-full of nuts. 

 

No, that wasn’t a very accurate analogy. If the test was full of nuts, then students _wouldn’t_ be in their rooms, because they wouldn’t have to study for the test. They could just eat it. Right?

 

_Oh God,_ Legolas thought despairingly. Was this what his brain was churning out? Thoughts about squirrels and nuts? Rather nutty thoughts. _Oh God again._ Now he was thinking of puns? 

 

He really needed some sleep.

 

Just at that moment, a knocking came at his door. Legolas forced himself to look up, head heavy with exhaustion and his nutty thoughts. 

 

“Hey, Legolas.” It was Galadriel, back from her shift. She looked as tired as Legolas felt. He felt a surge of momentary respect for her. Being a pre-law undergraduate, Galadriel probably required even more clown juggling skills than the usual student. She probably faced an illegal amount of coursework and there Legolas was again, making those damn puns in his head.

 

“Is it my turn already?” Legolas asked, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair over one ear. His hair was starting to get very long, fighting against the bondage of their braids. 

 

Galadriel nodded, looking sympathetic. “Don’t worry, I doubt anyone will be around,” she said reassuringly. “You can probably just stay in your room as long as you keep the door open and one ear pricked.”

 

Legolas nodded. “Good luck then,” he said, and she didn’t have to ask what for. Midterms were on the heels of everyone around this time.

 

“You too,” Galadriel replied. She shot him a faint, tired smile before whisking away to her room.

 

Not a heartbeat later, Boromir appeared in his doorway. Legolas blinked, surprised.

 

“What did Galadragon want?” Boromir asked, aiming for nonchalant.

 

Legolas wrinkled his nose. “Just ask her out already.”

 

“I’m telling you,” Boromir insisted, “that’s not what this is!”

 

“‘Galadragon’”? Legolas smirked. “Not really your best work. Sour-man was better.”

 

“Yeah, well the Galaciel Ice Queen seemed too mean.”

 

Legolas raised his eyebrows. “Enlighten me, why don’t you want to be mean, again?”

 

Boromir scowled. He crossed his arms, leaning against Legolas’ open door. “So, you starting your shift now?” he asked, changing the subject which in Legolas’ opinion meant he won.

 

“Yup,” Legolas said absentmindedly, turning back to the sketch on his desk. It was supposed to be the 3-D blueprints to any public building of his choice. He had chosen a gymnasium, a spur of the moment decision, but couldn’t for the life of him get farther than the swimming pool. 

 

“You studying?” Boromir asked, the second obvious question of the night. Legolas looked up.

 

“Yeah,” he said slowly, taking in Boromir’s rigid stance, the way his eyes were creased at the sides like they were last year around this time. Legolas remembered what he and Boromir had done to blow off steam.

 

“You want to slack off and play foozeball, don’t you,” Legolas stated. 

 

Boromir stuck out his tongue. “What’s that tone for, prince? Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about it.”

 

Legolas smiled indulgently. “Alright, just one game. Then I really have to finish this.”

 

Boromir grinned. “Sure, sure. _If_ you beat me.”

 

“Please,” Legolas said, already rising. “I never lose.”

 

They were in the middle of their third game — Legolas had won the previous two, but like Boromir had probably banked on was enjoying himself too much to stop — when they heard the clamor outside. 

 

Legolas paused in the act of twisting the foozeball handle, recognizing the sound of trouble, of anger. 

 

Boromir seized the opportunity to smack the ball clear down the table, sending it careening into Legolas’ goal.

 

“Wha — hey, no fair,” Legolas protested. But he was already striding over to the lounge door.

 

“Where are you going?” Boromir asked. “Avenge yourself!”

 

“In a minute,” Legolas said, peeking out the door. “I’m on shift and it sounds like some fellows have gotten in a tussle.”

 

“Where’s Galadragon when you need her,” Boromir muttered. “Sure she’d send them packing.”

 

Legolas shot him a grin. “You sound impressed,” he said, slyly. “Sure she didn’t send _you_ ‘packing’?” He ogled meaningfully at Boromir’s lower regions, making the other man blush.

 

“Legolas!” Boromir beamed. “Who is this saucy man who comes out in the nighttime hours?”

 

“Shut up, it’s the stress talking,” Legolas said, before gesturing at the hallway. The clamoring had gotten louder, and now Legolas could make out two distinct voices yelling at each other. 

 

“I should really check and see what’s going on,” Legolas said worriedly. 

 

Boromir waved him on. “Go, investigate. I’ll reset the game and wait for you to lose.”

 

Legolas rolled his eyes before slipping into the hallway, the lounge door shutting with a soft _snick_ behind him. 

 

The voices were coming from the east wing, which was in the opposite direction. Legolas walked swiftly. The arguing had gotten quite loud, and quite serious by the time he approached the scene.

 

Two freshmen boys were standing in front of the east wing lounge, facing each other. One of them was tall and lanky, the other shorter but firmly standing his ground. They were almost face to face, snarling back and forth with their hands on their hips. From the pair alone Legolas could smell beer and vodka, the mixture a strong, bitter punch to his nose. 

 

They were standing right outside resident’s dorms. Legolas frowned.

 

“Hey!” He said, approaching them. “Knock it off. There are people trying to sleep, and it’s also quiet hours for exam week.”

 

The pair ignored him in favor of their argument.

 

“You had no right to make out with her, Grima! She’s my ex!” The shorter one was saying.

 

“Pff,” the taller one said. Under the hallway’s fluorescent lights Legolas could see streaks of dark green dyed in his long hair. “That’s exactly right, your _ex._ As in, _no longer your concern.”_

 

“You knew I still care about her!” The shorter one vindictively flicked his middle finger upward at Grima, brandishing it like a sword. 

 

“Guys,” Legolas attempted, getting closer. “Seriously, keep it down — ” He could hear rustling coming from behind the doors, knew that people were waking up. And they would be rightfully annoyed.

 

“Don’t see why she’s so precious to you, Gollum,” Grima scoffed, still ignoring Legolas. He gave Gollum’s middle finger a sneer. “Worst kisser I’ve ever met — ”

 

_Wrong, wrong thing to say,_ Legolas thought, just as Gollum’s fist collided into Grima’s face, interrupting whatever he had been about to say next. 

 

Legolas lunged forward, grabbing Gollum’s arm before he could land another punch. Turns out he was holding onto the wrong person. 

 

Legolas had watched enough action movies to know how the script went, should have seen it coming. When someone punched someone else, the receiving end always retaliated.

 

As Legolas stepped between the pair, grabbing Gollum’s arm, Grima let his own fist fly. It landed with a loud _smack_ on Legolas’ jaw, snapping his head violently to the left. 

 

Legolas stumbled away, Gollum slipping from his grasp. His shoulder collided onto the wall and he stayed there. 

 

“Oh, shit — man, I didn’t mean to hit _you.”_

 

Legolas saw Grima approaching and flinched, raising one shaky hand up like a barrier. 

 

“Stay back,” he said fiercely. “Stay the hell back.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Grima said, Gollum a shocked shadow behind him. “It’s okay. Easy man, easy.”

 

“What the hell is going on?” A new voice thundered. It was coming from the room nearest them all.

 

The door had opened, revealing an enraged figure. His usually messy hair was even more unruly in the late hour. It was Aragorn, Legolas knew without even looking directly at him. Aragorn’s blue eyes were squinted against the light. He had clearly just woken up. 

 

“Do you guys not understand _quiet hours — ”_ Aragorn stopped when he saw Legolas. He stared.

 

At Legolas, who was still raising his hand, leaning against the wall like he was cold and it was fire. And as much as Legolas wanted to shut his eyes and pretend he wasn’t there, he had a responsibility. He was the RA; it was him who had come to this rowdy pair, not the other way around.

 

So Legolas snapped into action. He lowered his hand, turning to face Aragorn.

 

“It’s alright. Everything’s alright, it was just _these two,”_ Legolas jerked to his right at Grima and Gollum, “getting into a drunken fight.”

 

“Wait, you knew we were drunk?” Gollum said, to which Grima said, “ _Quiet, Gollum!”_

 

“We’re sorry to have woken you,” Legolas said. His jaw still stung slightly, and as he spoke he could taste copper in his mouth. But his voice was sure, his words light. The hallway was a stage, the fluorescent lights his spotlight. And he was killing it in his role. “Right, Grima? Gollum?”

 

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” Grima said. “Sorry.”

 

“Sorry,” Gollum echoed, sounding chastised for the first time that night. Legolas leaned heavily against the wall, satisfied that he was finally in control. 

 

“So,” Legolas said, facing them. “Fighting in the halls is not to be condoned — ”

 

“Hold on,” Aragorn interrupted. He stepped out of the room, leaving the shadows. His feet were bare, and he was wearing nothing but loose sweatpants. Legolas swallowed.

 

“Yes?” he prompted. “Please go back to sleep Aragorn, you should be rest — ”

 

“To hell with resting,” Aragorn interrupted again, louder this time. “What happened to you?” Then Aragorn stepped right in front of Legolas. He reached for Legolas’ jaw, as if to inspect the damage.

 

Legolas shirked back so fast his left elbow scraped against the wall’s hard wood. He winced as a splinter embedded itself deeply into his flesh. 

 

Aragorn looked shocked and dismayed, retracting his arm quickly. “Hey, it’s okay,” Aragorn said. They were the exact same words Grima had used just a moment before, but for some reason this time Legolas believed them.

 

He let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. Legolas couldn’t deal with this right now. This was — this was a whole other thing. 

 

“Go back to sleep,” Legolas said again, but his voice had lost its authoritative power. 

 

Still, Aragorn listened. “Alright,” he said. He stepped back, shooting a dark look at Grima and Gollum as he did so. “Were these two involved? Do you need my help getting rid of them?”

 

“Hey, we were just drunk, it’s all a mistake,” Gollum protested.

 

“Shut up about the drinking!” Grima hissed at him.

 

“So you guys _did_ hit him?” Aragorn said in disbelief. He rounded on the others, who cowered back.

 

“Stop,” Legolas said. His voice wasn’t as loud as it should have been, but Aragorn immediately stopped in his tracks.

 

“You’re both getting penalties,” Legolas continued. “Grima, Gollum, return to your rooms at once. I’ll be emailing you tomorrow morning what the exact punishment will be after conferring with the other RAs. For now…sleep it off.”

 

Grima nodded, immediately turning away and tugging Gollum with him. When he was halfway down the hallway, he turned. 

 

“Hey, look — I’m really sorry. About,” Grima gestured at his own face, eyes on Legolas’. “I wasn’t looking, I thought you were him.” Not that that admission was any better, Legolas thought privately. “Sorry.”

 

Legolas nodded. “Just go.” Gollum was already hightailing it down the hallway.

 

“‘Just go’?” Aragorn echoed, watching them flee. “‘Sleep it off’? What the hell, Legolas. You should have let me punch them in the face!”

 

“It was just Grima that hit me,” Legolas said, not even sure why he felt the need to explain himself to Aragorn.

 

“I’d just punch Grima in the face, then,” Aragorn conceded. He was back to looking at Legolas, with that odd look.

 

It was the look from when Legolas first met him, on the bus back to the dorms. The look that had cropped up, once or twice, in the middle of executing a particularly well-planned prank on the Cattle. The look that had followed them home the night Legolas brought the Lassos back from Frisky’s. 

 

Legolas was not a naive man. He knew the look was desire. Some of it was worry, and Legolas wondered how much blood was on his lip to warrant that. But there was desire underneath it, currently the second priority. The first priority if Legolas hadn’t been hurt.

 

It warmed him to his very core, and it scared him. If it was possible to want something that made him feel fear, well, now Legolas knew that it was. 

 

“Violence is not the answer,” Legolas responded, like some vessel of Ghandi’s brought to life in Mordor’s dorm hallway. It sounded stupidly cliché, but Aragorn nodded.

 

“Okay, I get that. But they _hit you._ They should be punished.”

 

“They will be punished,” Legolas said, aware that in this whole time he hadn’t moved from the wall. He was still tense, poised for flight.

 

“But you should be angry.” Aragorn cocked his head to the side, studying him. “Why aren’t you angry?”

 

Why wasn’t he angry? Because Thranduil. Because this wasn’t new, this was hardly even bad. Because Legolas could tell the difference between a drunken mistake such as this one and real, solid intent, malicious and repetitive. Because Legolas was in control of the consequences here, and yes he had been afraid of Grima in the haze of the moment. But he was in control.

 

Legolas couldn’t say all that, any of that. It was too much, for someone he was only starting to understand. And some _thing_ he was only starting to understand. 

 

So Legolas stayed silent. He brought one hand up to his lip. It came away with his fingertips stained crimson. 

 

“Shoot,” he said hollowly. “This is going to sting in the morning.”

 

Aragorn shook his head, watching Legolas. “You’re a puzzle,” he said. 

 

“An enigma?” Legolas teased, pretending they were just bantering for no reason under the harsh light. 

 

Aragorn cracked a small smile, but he still looked worried. “Seriously, are you going to be okay?” He looked like he wanted to step forward again, inspect Legolas, but refrained.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be fi — ”

 

“Oy!” Legolas stopped talking as Boromir rapidly approached them from down the hall. “What’s the holdup Leggy, you sure are taking your sweet time to lose…” Boromir stared as he took in the scene.

 

In a flash, Boromir’s long legs had eaten up the carpet and he was by Legolas’ side. To Legolas’ dismay, Boromir immediately pushed against Aragorn’s chest, sending him stumbling backwards.

 

“Get the hell away from him.” Boromir’s snarl was dark, matching the murderous look in his eyes.

 

“What — hey!” Aragorn yelped, fumbling to regain his footing.

 

“Boromir!” Legolas stepped in front of Boromir as the other man advanced on Aragorn. “It’s okay. It’s not him.”

 

Boromir halted, eyes snapping from Legolas’ raised hands to Aragorn’s shocked look. “What do you mean,” he said slowly. “Tell me what you mean.”

 

“Aragorn was trying to help,” Legolas explained. “It was Grima who got drunk and accidentally landed a blow while he was fighting Gollum. I’m emailing them tomorrow.”

 

“You’re — you’re emailing them,” Boromir parroted back. 

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“Okay, what — ” Boromir scrubbed a hand across his face. “So, they’ll be taken care of?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Boromir turned to Aragorn. “And you were helping?”

 

“I tried, but it was too late when I woke up.” Aragorn narrowed his eyes defiantly at Boromir. “And where, pray tell, were _you_ when this all went down?” He sounded accusatory. “Aren’t you RA’s supposed to stick together?”

 

Boromir glared, but a guilty look stole across his face.

 

“No,” Legolas said quickly, at the sight of it. “It was me on shift, Boromir just happened to be awake.”

 

Boromir turned back to Legolas. “But I should have been here.” His frown deepened. “Are you hurt?”

 

“Of course he’s hurt,” Aragorn exploded, just as Legolas said, “I’m fine.”

 

Aragorn crossed his arms. “Why is no one more alarmed that there’s _blood dripping from Legolas’ face?_ Is it just me or is this not supposed to be normal?”

 

“Hey,” Boromir said to Legolas, ignoring Aragorn. “Are you okay?” He didn’t reach out to Legolas, knew better than to try. 

 

Legolas knew what he was asking.

 

“I’m fine,” he repeated sincerely, looking Boromir straight in the eyes. Boromir nodded, satisfied.

 

Legolas was aware of Aragorn watching them silently. 

 

“It’s going to sting like hell in the morning,” Boromir said, unknowingly saying the same thing Legolas had just moments before. 

 

“I’ll get you some ice,” Boromir offered. “Aragorn, make sure he gets back to his room, okay?” 

 

Legolas huffed as Aragorn nodded. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”

 

“Yeah, whatever you say, prince,” Boromir teased over his shoulder as he walked away.

 

Aragorn gestured down the hallway grandly. “After you, prince.”

 

Legolas rolled his eyes. “Please, not you too.”

 

“Why does he call you that?” Aragorn asked curiously.

 

“It’s because of my long hair. I usually braid it back to keep it out of my eyes, and Boromir teased me about it every morning last year.”

 

“Every morning?” 

 

“Well, he was my roommate last year. So he’d usually be there in the morning when I did it.”

 

“I see.” Aragorn said. Legolas shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something, but Legolas gave him his privacy because God knows Aragorn had done the same for him tonight. 

 

“I never thanked you,” Legolas said. “For stepping in when you did.”

 

Aragorn shrugged. “Hey, I told the truth to Boromir. I really was too late to stop you from getting hurt.” Aragorn looked sorrowful. “And anyways, there’s no need to thank me…I’m glad to have woken up when I did. And that it was me.”

 

There was a lot left unsaid, there. Legolas heard it all.

 

“Can I ask…” Aragorn trailed off.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“What does Boromir know that you’re not telling me?” 

 

They had reached Legolas’ room now. The door was still open, bright light spilling out into the hallway. It patterned across both their feet, yellow rays like forest sun.

 

“What do you mean?” Legolas asked.

 

Aragorn shot him a look. “You know what I mean. The way Boromir acted when he thought I was the one who hit you. And how he didn’t even try to look at your wound, because he knew you wouldn’t like it.”

 

Aragorn saw a lot, it seemed. Could put two and two together. 

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Aragorn said softly. “But if you wanted to.” _I’d be here._

 

Legolas smiled gently up at him. “Thank you. I think — I think I will. Just not tonight.”

 

Aragorn nodded. “I understand.”

 

“Goodnight, Aragorn.”

 

“‘Night, Legolas.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	5. Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Kili. How’s high school treating you?”
> 
> Kili wrinkled a nose. “It’s difficult. And boring, now that you’re not there,” Kili added, bopping his brother on the shoulder.
> 
> “Hey, quit it --”
> 
> “Yo, Lego, my man!” Pippin popped up at Legolas’s shoulder, making him jump.
> 
> “Four slices of pepperoni, please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been SOME TIME. Hello, all. Thank you SO MUCH for your continued support for this story. I am trying my best to reply to each and every one of you lovely people! You make writing an absolute joy. 
> 
> Thus, here is a long chappie. Hope it makes up for my absence ! 
> 
> P.S. How about that creative chapter title though? Lol

“Greentree.” 

 

Legolas looked up from his desk. A tall figure stood in the doorway to his dorm room, a dark maroon blanket wrapped snugly around his lanky frame.The silver dye in his hair was starting to fade, making his long locks look almost grey in the evening light.

 

“It’s Green _leaf,”_ Legolas reminded him. “And I told you, you can call me by my first name, Saruman.”

 

“Well, I never said the same to you,” Saruman sniffed haughtily, causing Legolas’s mouth to snap shut. Saruman’s blanket hugged him tightly, as if it didn’t know no amount of warmth could thaw the undergrad’s icy interior.

 

“What’s up, Saru - what’s up?” Legolas sighed, reclining in his rolling chair.

 

“I want you to take my shift for tonight’s monthly dinner,” Saruman said, between coughs.

 

The residence hall had in-dorm dinners the last week of every month, which anyone who lived here was invited to. The RAs were in charge of cooking and passing out the food, and the freshmen voted on the night’s entertainment (movies, video games, etc.). It was supposed to encourage bonding between dorm residents. 

 

Normally, Legolas enjoyed these dinners -- although his cooking skills were lacking -- but tonight he had a lot of work to do. He still hadn’t finished his architecture project. All he had was a gymnasium without a roof, and three rungs leading to an empty pool. 

 

Mordor University was now headlong into both exams and autumn, the rising cold biting at Legolas’s bare ankles. He shivered as he turned to face Saruman.

 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tonight. I have -- ” Legolas swept an arm at the sheets of paper coating his desk. “Stuff.”

 

As Legolas spoke, he noticed how red the rims of Saruman’s eyes were, and the tissues clenched in one hand. As the season got colder, more and more students began catching the flu. It seemed Saruman wasn’t impervious to this. As Saruman gave another great, heaving cough, Legolas felt sorry for the man, but it was true that he was swamped. 

 

“Stuff.” Saruman repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Are you forgetting the favor you owe me?”

 

“What fa -- oh.” Legolas flashed back to the night he had been texted by the Lassos and roped -- did Sam know about all these puns when he made the name? -- into fetching them back to the dorms. Saruman had covered his shift that night, and in return Legolas had promised him a favor.

 

Saruman’s eyes glittered as he saw Legolas realize. 

 

“That’s right, Greenbush. So, tonight. Dinner.” With that, Saruman turned heel and left.

 

“It’s Green _leaf!_ ”

\-----

 

An hour later Legolas was heading downstairs, a roll of sketch paper under one arm and a spatula in the other. 

 

It was a cool, crisp Saturday night, a full day after the rather horrible Grima-Gollum event. Legolas forced himself not to think about that, concentrating on his gymnasium project. 

 

Galadriel greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen area downstairs. Her eyes passed over his face briefly, taking in the steadily healing split lip, but she made no comment. 

 

Boromir had probably already filled her in on what had happened. After deeming Legolas fit to cook, she carried on per usual, not making a fuss. It was one of the things Legolas appreciated about the blonde.

 

“Ah, Legolas!” Gandalf called, from one corner of the kitchen. “You’ve arrived in Saruman’s place, I assume? Nasty cough that boy had. Nasty.”

 

“You’re only four months older than ‘that boy,’” Galadriel rolled her eyes as she set out the ingredients. “What did you bring us, Legolas?”

 

Legolas let the spatula clatter to the table. Galadriel raised one thin, elegant eyebrow as she spotted it and the roll of paper under his arm. 

 

“A breakfast utensil and blueprints? Do you even cook, Legolas?”

 

“Nope,” Legolas admitted freely, sitting down. “But tell me what to stir, and I’ll stir.” 

 

Gandalf nodded in agreement. Galadriel rolled her eyes again.

 

“What’s the paper for?” She asked him. 

 

“My homework.” At Galadriel’s withering look, Legolas added, “It’s midterm week! I’ll only work on it when the stew is busy boiling, or whatever.”

 

“Good God. _The stew?_ We’re making homemade pizza, Legolas!”

 

“Uh oh. Is the Galadragon already breathing fire?” Boromir shuffled into the kitchen, garbed in old sweats and a loose tee. His hair was up in a bun, per usual, but several strands had come loose to frame his angular face.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Galadriel snapped, already knowing who it was without turning from the table.

 

Legolas waved Boromir over. “What are you doing?” He gestured to his friend’s clothing. “Galadriel’s going to kill you.”

 

It was tradition for the cooks to be dressed in semi-formal attire, nothing too elaborate, but definitely not sweats. 

 

“Maybe then the pizza will be cooked faster. We can use her fire to bake ‘em,” Boromir smirked. He eyed Legolas’ own clothes.

 

“It’s not fun if you don’t play too,” he grumbled, taking in Legolas’ mint button-down shirt. 

 

“I put on jeans,” Legolas insisted. “That’s as far as I’ll go in your guys’s strange, love-hate war.”

 

Boromir rolled his eyes in a way that was clearly supposed to mean, _I have no idea what you’re talking about,_ but was eerily reminiscent of Galadriel’s earlier eye rolling. Legolas suppressed a smile.

 

Suddenly, a curly-haired head poked itself into the kitchen. 

 

“Hello, guys!” It was Sam, smiling brightly at them with a box of tissues in his hands. 

 

Gandalf waved at him. “What brings you here, Samwise Gamgee?”

 

“Er -- I was wondering if you guys had any soup? I know tonight’s pizza night, but Frodo’s got the flu...I’m trying to get him stuff.” Sam gestured at the tissues.

 

“I’m sure there’s a spare can of chicken noodle in the pantry,” Legolas offered, getting up to rummage around. 

 

“Take whatever you need,” Galadriel agreed, nodding warmly at the freshman. 

 

“Not all scales and fire, eh?” Legolas whispered to Boromir. 

 

Boromir blinked at Galadriel, no response forthcoming. 

 

“Does this mean you two won’t be attending the movie tonight?” Legolas asked, as he gave Sam a couple cans he’d found.

 

“Maybe...” Sam looked unsure. “Frodo’s probably going to stay in his room for the weekend. We might try and nip down to see Kili, though.”

 

“Oh? Fili’s brother is visiting this weekend?” Legolas asked, surprised. Kili had just visited last weekend, too.

 

Sam nodded. “He’s great! Very funny. But...” Sam lowered his voice so that Galadriel couldn’t hear. “It’ll be a problem if the Cattle decide to make a move. Fili _and_ Kili would make a deadly pranking duo.”

 

“Noted,” Legolas said, hoping the gleam in Boromir’s eyes as he heard was just a trick of the light. _Don’t give them any ideas, Sam._

 

“What happened to your face, by the way?” Sam was staring at Legolas’s chin. 

 

“Ran into a wall. The night shifts are deadly,” Legolas said quickly, sickening himself at how easily the lie slipped onto his tongue. And to Sam, of all people. 

 

He realized with a jolt that this time, this was one wound he didn’t have to cover up. It had been an accident, nothing more. It was too late to take his words back, though. Boromir was giving him a sideways glance, but said nothing. 

 

Legolas swallowed his guilt as Sam gave an unsuspecting nod.

 

“You should get a flashlight! Well, thanks for the soup! I’ll tell Frodo you guys said hi.” 

 

“Yes, tell him we hope he feels better soon!” Boromir smiled at the freshman. 

 

The dinner passed with surprising ease. Legolas felt the stress of exams lift off his shoulders as he rolled dough alongside his fellow RAs. He and Boromir joked together, coming close to throwing grated cheese at each other -- Galadriel looked absolutely dangerous -- and got some unsolicited advice from Gandalf on the best way to roll other...less legal substances. 

 

Finally, the pizzas were all baked. They made a total of four large pizzas: one pepperoni, two cheeses, and one sausage. 

 

All four RAs stepped back to enjoy their handiwork. Galadriel leaned against the counter alongside Gandalf. Boromir and Legolas collapsed onto the kitchen bar stools. 

 

“It smells like heaven in here,” Gandalf commented. 

 

“So glad we’re done. I’m so swamped in homework,” Boromir groaned, dusting flour off his hands. 

 

“As am I,” said Gandalf,” and so are all who endure these midterms. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us...pizza-making is a good way to spend time,” he concluded with a sage nod of his head.

 

Boromir stared, turned to Legolas, and mimed putting a blunt to his lips. 

 

A steady stream of students had discovered the delicious aroma and began trickling into the kitchen. Legolas passed around paper plates and plastic utensils. 

 

He spotted a younger face amidst the crowd. Kili, raven-haired and happy, stood in line behind his brother. Though older, Fili was only a smidge taller than Kili, foreshadowing that someday soon Kili might overtake him in height.

 

“Hi Legolas!” Kili chirped, accepting a plate from him. 

 

“Hey, Kili. How’s high school treating you?”

 

Kili wrinkled a nose. “It’s difficult. And boring, now that you’re not there,” Kili added, bopping his brother on the shoulder.

 

“Hey, quit it --” 

 

“Yo, Lego, my man!” Pippin popped up at Legolas’s shoulder, making him jump. 

 

“Four slices of pepperoni, please!”

 

Boromir’s eyes boggled. “There’s no way a shorty like you can eat that much.”

 

Pippin scowled up at him. “I’ll have you know, that I definitely could, but right now I’m trying to save some for Merry.”

 

“Don’t tell me he’s sick, too?” Legolas asked, frowning. The flu hadn’t spread this badly last year.

 

Pippin nodded, an unusually somber look on his face. 

 

“Maybe ask Sam for some soup,” Legolas added. “We gave him the last chicken noodle cans for Frodo.”

 

Pippin rolled his eyes. He did a good impression of Galadriel and Boromir, Legolas thought privately. 

 

“Stupid goldfish-loving bastard says Frodo’s sicker than Merry, and so he needs all the soup.” Pippin shrugged, plucking pizza onto his plates. “No matter, pizza tastes better. Merry’ll like it.”

 

“Huh.” Legolas folded his arms. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him. He’s just worried about his friend, is all.”

 

“You should recommend he kiss Frodo and make him better,” Kili chimed in, grinning at Pippin, who grinned back. 

 

“Frodo, my prince charming,” Pippin mimed swooning, the pizza’s sliding dangerously close to the edge of the plate.

 

“What? Pippin has a crush on Frodo?” Galadriel walked over to them, only hearing the tail end of their conversation.

 

Kili and Fili cracked up as Pippin spluttered indignantly. 

 

“No! It’s _Sam._ Sam is the lovestruck goon,” Pippin insisted. 

 

Legolas observed them mess around, silently relieved that they weren’t making Sam’s crush a big deal. Other than teasing, they seemed completely fine with it. Legolas had observed Sam and Frodo these past weeks himself, and had seen Sam’s crush in the obvious way the boy blushed every time Frodo lit up. 

 

Deep down, Legolas knew Pippin and the others wouldn’t have a problem with it. Of course they wouldn’t. And shouldn’t. _It’s only Thranduil, and people like him, who can’t see past their own noses,_ Legolas reminded himself. _Not everyone’s out to push you down._

 

Still, it was a relief. 

 

“Wait, if Merry’s sick, and he’s your best friend, then you’ve probably got his germs on you,” Fili said suddenly. He threw a hand across Kili’s shoulder as his brother moved forward, as if they were in a car and Kili needed a seatbelt. 

 

“I don’t have germs!” Pippin frowned, flicking a pepperoni at Fili. 

 

“Hey, we have to clean up after you guys, you know,” Boromir complained, kneeling to retrieve the fallen condiment. 

 

Legolas laughed, turning to hand a plate to the next person in line. 

 

It was Aragorn. He was dressed in a black Metallica t-shirt and jeans, hands tucked in the pockets. He smiled as he pulled his hands out to take the plate.

 

“Hello, Legolas. Nice shirt,” Aragorn commented with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow.

 

“Hi.” Legolas smiled easily at him. “Just blame RA tradition. For some reason we’re supposed to dress up.”

 

Aragorn laughed, but his eyes were sincere. “No, I meant it. It’s a nice color on you.”

 

“Oh, then, thanks.” Legolas shifted on his feet. “Er, pizza. What type?” He remembered belatedly. “Vegetarian, right?”

 

“Yup.” Aragorn’s smile widened at Legolas’s remembering. Then he leaned forward.

 

“You’ve got -- ” Aragorn swept one thumb deftly across the bridge of Legolas’s nose. “-- some stray flour there.”

 

“Oh.” Legolas was horrified to realize he was starting to blush. This was unsafe territory. 

 

“How’s the --?” Aragorn gestured to his face. Legolas raised one hand to his lip. 

 

“A lot better,” he said. “Split lips heal quickly.” _Trust me, I’d know._

 

“I ran into Sam on my way down. According to him, you ran into a wall?” Aragorn’s tone was light, not accusing, simply stating what he’d heard.

 

Legolas shrugged, not as uncomfortable as he usual would be when under scrutiny. “I didn’t want to explain the whole long story,” he replied.

 

Aragorn looked confused, but he let it go. “So, what’s the movie tonight?”

 

“You mean you guys haven’t decided yet?” Boromir groaned, joining them after the Search for the Missing Pepperoni (Kili was glad he wasn’t the one lost this time). 

 

“Come on, you guys! I gotta get back to work,” Boromir said, just as Galadriel was passing, a plate in each hand. She gave him a _look._

 

“I’m not discouraging freshman bonding! I’m just saying!” Boromir called after her retreating back.

 

“Developed your own language with her, now, have you?” Legolas asked, catching Aragorn’s eye. Aragorn lit up in understanding.

 

“Got her silent looks down with accuracy, have you?” Aragorn added.

 

Boromir looked between them suspiciously. “Whatever’s happening here, I don’t like it.”

 

“Upset that we’ve cracked the code to your romance, now, have you?” Legolas said. Aragorn grinned, about to say something else, when Legolas spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Wha -- hey! That’s not a tablecloth!” Legolas raced over to the counter, where Gimli had put down his plate -- _right on top of his sketches._

 

“Oh, no,” Legolas said despairingly, lifting the plate to see an oily ring marring his work.

 

“Shit, Leggy, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize -- !” Gimli apologized profusely, eyes wide. 

 

“It’s alright...not your fault,” Legolas said, trying and failing to keep his despair at bay. He had had a slow start to begin with. Now he’d have to start all over on this damn assignment. 

 

Stupid half-finished gymnasium! He was starting to hate it, despite his initial excitement when the project was given to them. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Aragorn made his way through the crowded kitchen over to where Legolas and Gimli were standing.

 

“I messed up Legolas’s homework,” Gimli admitted, looking ashamed.

 

“Hey, it’s fine...really, there’s nothing much to mourn. I wasn’t even close to being done,” Legolas sighed, folding the sketch and placing it in his back pocket.

 

Gimli escaped to drown his embarrassment in another slice of pizza. 

 

“I caught a glimpse -- architecture project?” Aragorn asked curiously.

 

Legolas nodded. “It’s supposed to be of whatever we want it to be. I thought that would make things easier at first, but I’ve sort of lost motivationalong the way...it sucks.”

 

“Why did you lose motivation?” Aragorn asked, leaning against the counter next to him and biting into his pizza.

 

“Don’t know,” Legolas frowned, looking down at his fingers. He had the gymnasium already finished in his mind, every stroke to complete it a given. But why couldn’t he just _do_ it? 

 

“I picked a gymnasium because that’s something I’m familiar with. I run track and field in the spring,” he explained. “And sometimes we do archery tournaments indoors.”

 

“So, it’s easy. ‘Cause you know all about it. But maybe it’s not fun,” Aragorn said. 

 

“What do you mean?” Legolas looked up at him.

 

“I guess what I mean is, maybe you could experiment with stuff outside of your comfort zone,” Aragorn said. “But that’s just something to consider. It’s up to you.”

 

“Hmm.” Legolas thought about it. He had thought sketching a gymnasium was something familiar _and_ fun, and it was...but it wasn’t _exciting._ Maybe he needed do what Aragorn had said, to go outside his comfort zone. 

 

What could he sketch? Legolas tried to stop thinking about what he was used to, and simply open his mind to the possibilities. What called to him? 

Legolas closed his eyes, thinking of grass under his feet as he ran. The smell of autumn descending all around him as he breathed in deep, relaxing before letting go of the taut line of his bow. Sweat dripping as he stood under the sun’s mercy, and the thirst he’d felt that first day back from practice. 

 

“A pagoda.” Legolas opened his eyes to see Aragorn gazing at him. He blushed furiously, but ignored it. Now he had an idea. 

 

“What about a pagoda?”

 

“It’s -- it’ll keep the sunlight out, be a nice place to sit in the shade...and maybe there could be a water fountain in the corner...some tables in the center...a roof with criss-crossed beams...” Legolas was rambling, pulling out his paper and flipping it over to the blank side. 

 

He stared at it, letting his mind map the pagoda onto the paper. It was brilliant. 

 

“You’re brilliant,” Legolas said, head snapping up to meet Aragorn’s gaze. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 

Aragorn was laughing now. His eyes crinkled as he spoke. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m glad I could help!” 

 

Legolas reached out, hesitant, to grasp Aragorn’s shoulder. “Seriously. You helped. Shoot -- I need a pencil. I gotta go!” Legolas turned and ran out the kitchen door, leaving a shocked smile on Aragorn’s face. 

 

“You better not be abandoning me!” Boromir shouted after him, as he tried vainly to disentangle himself from Kili and Pippin. 

 

“I’ll be right back!” Legolas yelled. 

\------

The freshmen picked _Frozen._

 

Legolas was pretty sure it was Pippin and Kili’s fault. Pippin, just for generalamusement in seeing everyone groan, and Kili because he actually liked it. But Ori was giving the TV set a wide grin, so Legolas suspected him, too. 

 

Legolas was kneeling to slide the movie into the Blueray player when he heard Boromir say, “Oh, hell no.”

 

Turning around, Legolas saw Grima hovering at the edge of the lounge area, Gollum peeking over his shoulder.

 

Galadriel met them before they could get in any farther. “You’re not coming in here,” she stated firmly. “You’re both still banned from any activities.” Her tone was fiercer than Legolas had ever heard it. This was including the time Merri had accidentally lit her slippers on fire. 

 

Galadriel waited until Grima (and by extension, Gollum) had slunk away before sitting back down. Boromir had watched open-mouthed, and was now staring at Legolas in part concern ( _are you okay, Legolas?)_ and part bewilderment ( _I think you might have been right about me and Galadragon)._

 

Legolas nodded at him, saying yes to both, a quiet smile on his face. 

 

As Anna wondered if anyone was going to build a snowman with her, Legolas got to work. He had a fresh piece of sketch paper on his lap, and a sharpened pencil tucked behind one ear. 

 

Legolas and the other RAs had pulled all the furniture over into the center of the downstairs main lounge. He was sitting next to Boromir on the desk farthest from the TV.

 

Aragorn was sitting across from him. He had placed a plate of pizza in front of Legolas before the movie started, saying something about how Legolas had been in such a hurry he hadn’t gotten a slice. Legolas was too distracted to do more than nod in thanks, but he felt warmth spreading across his cheeks. People were going to start thinking he had the flu, too, if he didn’t stop blushing this much. 

 

Next to Aragorn, across from Boromir, was Gimli. At the head of their table was Galadriel, squished onto a bench with Gandalf (who looked to be nodding off). 

 

On the floor next to them sat Balin and Dwalin, and farther down Sam was holding a piece of sausage pizza halfway to his mouth, his attention raptly focused on (a now dancing) Anna. 

 

On the couch behind them sat Pippin, and next to him Kili and Fili. Ori sat with a cushion under his legs, so as to see over Dwalin’s head. He was mouthing along to the words. 

 

Legolas felt an immense fondness swell up in him. He hadn’t known he’d ever feel this much sentiment as he’d signed up for RA all that time ago. As Kili sneezed, and Fili turned to shoot daggers at Pippin (who rolled his eyes), Legolas knew he’d made a decision he’d never regret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I used some Tolkein quotes for Gandalf again.)
> 
> Please let me know how I'm doing ~ if you like the story, and/or any suggestions! <3


	6. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I do not need you!” Legolas yelled, making Thranduil startle back. Invigorated at the response, Legolas continued._
> 
> Fili comes to Legolas with a question. Bilbo returns from studying abroad, with a little surprise from his trip. Legolas invites his friends to his first archery tournament of the semester. He’s usually not nervous, he’s done this many times before…but an unwelcome guest complicates everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know, guys. This chapter was really difficult to write, but at the same time it kept nagging at me and asking to happen. I've been going through some stuff, out here in the real world, some really troubling things that have made me feel pretty small. This chapter made me connect with Legolas in ways I didn't realize were going to happen when I first started writing about this modern AU version of the character.
> 
> So basically, I really had to write this and then once it was done I just was like, well fuck it let's just publish it. I usually read chapters over and don't publish them right after their conception but this time ...well, like I said, fuck it. It's probably rife with grammatical errors and deviates from the original tone of the story, and I'm sorry about that. I'll probably come back to it later and edit the holy mother of crap out of it so...yeah. But here it is for now. 
> 
> Warnings at the end notes because THIS note has already been way too damn long lol. But yeah TRIGGERS so please check those notes.

“What’s up, Fili?” Legolas asked, eyes still riveted on the paper before him. He was seated at the desk in his room — door open, per usual — with Galadriel sat behind him on the beanbag chair stuffed in one corner. 

 

The blonde glanced up from her book to narrow her eyes disapprovingly at Legolas for not giving the freshman his undivided attention. Legolas tried to ignore her without success. 

 

“Er, what’s going on, Fili?” Legolas said more slowly, swiveling in his chair to focus on his friend. When he saw Fili, he instantly regretted not doing so sooner.

 

Fili looked downcast, grey smudges underneath his eyes betraying his worry. His normally tidy straw-colored hair was twisted in disarray, and even though it was only 2PM on a Sunday he was yawning. 

 

“Oh, Fili, what’s wrong?” Galadriel gasped, setting down her book. She leapt up to pull Fili over to Legolas’s bed, while Legolas quickly shut the door so they’d have more privacy. This seemed like the sort of thing where privacy mattered.

 

“It’s Kili,” Fili said, in a small, dismal voice. Legolas’s heart lurched in his chest, _what was wrong with Kili?_

 

He had seen the boy only yesterday at pizza night. He had looked his usual happy and carefree self, even going so far as to stay up most of the night playing video games with Pippin and Merry. Even though the latter of the two inseperables had been slightly subdued due to being ill (though Merry was so excitable that when he was subdued he had the regular energy of a completely healthy person), they all had a good time.

 

“Fili…whatever’s going on, you can tell us,” Galadriel said in a quiet voice, rubbing soothing circles down Fili’s back. Legolas bit back a fond smile. Was Boromir aware the blonde was such a mother hen?

 

“We will try our best to help,” Legolas added, sitting down on the other side of Fili.

 

“Kili is…” Fili swallowed, and Legolas feared the worst. “He’s…he’s sick,” Fili said finally. 

 

There was a strained silence. And then, 

 

“Sick?” Galadriel said, something dangerous in her voice. Legolas winced internally. 

 

“Yes.” Fili’s voice sounded choked. 

 

“So he’s…sick as in, sick like Merry? Like he has the fever?” Legolas asked, trying to understand why Fili was reacting so strongly to his brother’s flu. Almost everyone was sick (it was a wonder how Fili himself wasn’t), and they were all going to be alright. They just needed a couple days rest.

 

“ _Yes,”_ Fili insisted, his tone belying his frustration. 

 

Galadriel stopped rubbing his back to place her head in her hands. “God, Fili, you made it sound like he was lost again, or something!” She mumbled between her fingers. 

 

“Okay, that only happened one time!” Fili protested, frowning. “Why aren’t you guys more worried for him? Didn’t you hear, he’s really sick!”

 

“Okay, okay, we’re sorry,” Legolas said, patting Fili on the knee. “It’s just that, you looked very, very worried when you first came in, and that startled us. We’re more used to seeing our friends sick because a lot of them have been getting the flu recently. That’s not to say that this isn’t troubling, we understand that.”

 

This time it was Legolas who got to give Galadriel _the look._ He reveled in the rare opportunity. 

 

Galadriel quickly snapped out of her frustration, nodding and throwing her arm around Fili’s shoulders. 

 

“He’ll be okay, just like Merry and Frodo will be,” Galadriel informed him. “Soon they’ll be hanging out and goofing off per usual, back to their normal selves.” 

 

_And so will Saruman,_ Legolas thought mournfully. 

 

“How is he, Fili? Did you manage to get some soup from Sam?” Legolas asked him. 

 

“Yeah…Bilbo stopped by also, and helped direct us to the campus infirmary,” Fili nodded. Legolas sat up with a jolt. He had nearly forgotten Bilbo was back from his horticulture study abroad program in Europe today! _The sooner I finish this pagoda project, the sooner I can be a more attentive RA,_ Legolas thought ruefully. 

 

“Good, that’s good,” Galadriel said firmly. She tried to sound encouraging. “If he takes his medicine, and has plenty of fluids and soup, he should be right as rain in no time.”

 

Fili nodded, but he still looked depressed. Legolas sensed that there was something more going on. 

 

“Fili…what are you not telling us?” Legolas asked, ducking his head to peer into the other boy’s eyes. Fili avoided his gaze, dropping it to the ground below them. His blue eyes were misty, and again worry tugged at Legolas’s heartstrings. 

 

“Kili…doesn’t want to go to Mordor University,” Fili confessed. He looked pained, as if his brother had struck him with a blow. 

 

Legolas frowned, knowing how much Fili loved his brother, and had looked forward to Kili joining him at this campus once Kili graduated high school. Right now Kili was in the thick of college applications. 

 

But Legolas had thought Fili’s biggest worry would be whether or not Kili would make it in, not if he wanted to apply! Legolas knew Kili loved Fili just as much, and missed him fiercely when they were apart. Kili’s constant visits to see his brother, such as this weekend trip, were sure indications of that.

 

“Why doesn’t he want to come?” Legolas asked Fili gently. 

 

“It’s not that he _doesn’t want_ to,” Fili amended quickly. “It’s just not his number one school, like it was for me. There are better programs at Erebor University, at least when it comes to what he wants to study. I know that Kili would come here if I asked…but how can I ask that, when Erebor would be so much better for him?” 

 

Fili looked torn, turning despairingly at Legolas. Legolas didn’t know what to say. It was clear that Fili was greatly distressed at the prospect of not seeing his brother more often…but wasn’t college the time when siblings had some time alone, to grow independently from each other?

 

“If Erebor is better for him, then Kili should probably go there. You guys can see each other on weekends, like you’re doing now, right?” Galadriel answered rationally, looking confused when Legolas fixed her another _look_ (twice in one day!). Legolas knew she was just speaking from a logical standpoint, as she was wont to do. But Fili and Kili’s affections for each other preceded logic. 

 

“But what we’re doing now _sucks,”_ Fili wailed mournfully. “I don’t want to keep doing this stupid weekend thing, it’s much too short and now Kili’s sick and we can’t do anything together, anyway,” Fili sniffed, and suddenly Legolas understood.

 

Kili’s being sick had set off something within Fili, an innate fear that he wouldn’t be able to spend much time with his brother. With college applications for Kili just around the corner, his ailment had just been the frosting on the cake. 

 

_What a bunch of bros,_ Legolas thought fondly to himself. When he was younger, he had been jealous of those that had close relationships with their siblings. Legolas himself was an only child, had lost his mother at a young age, and never truly bonded with Thranduil…he had longed for that kind of closeness with family all his life. Legolas was glad that Fili and Kili had each other. 

 

“I know it’s hard not to see him more often, the way you used to back at home. But you’re right, Kili needs to choose the school that is best for him. I know you may not want to hear this, but this will be a good time for you to grow. Not grow apart,” Legolas hastened to add, at Fili’s horrified look, “Just grow more personally and individually. You will both learn and discover more things about yourselves that will be infinitely rewarding for your futures. And there are weekends, and holidays, where you two can catch up and show each other the awesome people you’ve become.”

 

“Yeah, even awesomer than right now, if that’s even possible,” Galadriel added, bumping Fili’s shoulder playfully. She must have noticed how Legolas stayed on his side of the bed, keeping mostly to himself, but she didn’t comment on it. 

 

Fili sniffed rather loudly, giving them both a grateful look. “I guess that’s true,” he said finally. “I just hate not _being there,_ you know…when Kili starts applying to places, and getting in, and whatever else happening after that. It just feels weird not understanding everything that’s going on with him, discovering things together like we used to when we were younger.”

 

“Trust me, you two will always be close. He cares about you too much to ever not want to share those discoveries with you. Even if it’s at a later time,” Legolas reassured Fili, earning a bright smile from the shorter boy. 

 

“You’re right. Thank you,” Fili pulled Legolas in for a quick hug, startling him. Legolas had one brief moment of confused panic before Fili had retracted his arms to hug Galadriel. 

 

“Anytime,” Galadriel said, waving as Fili opened the door. “Tell Kili we hope he feels better!”

 

“I will, right after I put toothpaste instead of cream in Merry’s Oreos, for getting Kili sick,” Fili promised. 

 

“We RA’s are going to pretend we didn’t hear that!” Legolas called after him, smiling. 

 

When he turned, Galadriel was giving him an odd look. 

 

“What?” Legolas shifted uncomfortably. Galadriel shrugged, retrieving her book from the floor. 

 

“Nothing. Just — if you ever want to talk, Legolas, I’m here. And I’m not just saying this as an RA.” She scrutinized him, as if every wound Thranduil had ever inflicted on him was exposed on his skin. Legolas frowned despite her kind words, both touched and deeply uncomfortable at the same time. He had never had so many close friends all at once. It scared him how easily he could have admitted everything to her, all his doubts Thranduil had placed on him. 

 

It was a dangerous feeling, his heady, sweet sense of safety and care. Legolas snapped himself out of it, returning to his desk silently. 

 

“Thank you,” he said politely, eyes fixed on his paper, hoping he didn’t offend Galadriel with his belated reply. He just didn’t know what to say. 

 

Galadriel opened her mouth to speak, eyes still kind, but just then Boromir burst into Legolas’s room.

 

“Quick, man! We’re feeding Bilbo’s carnivorous plant with leftover sausage pi — oh. Hi, Galadriel.” Boromir’s voice went up a notch. Legolas’s worries dissipated in favor of amusement as his friend leaned on the doorpost, feigning casualness. 

 

“Tell Bilbo he’s not allowed to have carnivorous plants,” Galadriel said loftily from her beanbag chair seat. 

 

Boromir frowned. “Plants are allowed in residence halls.”

 

“Yes. _Plants._ Not…carnivorous pets. Someone could get hurt,” Galadriel rejoined.

 

“Worry wart,” Boromir shot at her.

 

“Reckless,” Galadriel shot back. 

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go see the plant!” Legolas jumped up, cutting off their mutual tirade. 

 

“Good man, Legolas,” Boromir said, pointedly not looking in Galadriel’s direction. He ushered Legolas down the hallway. 

 

Once they were a safe distance away, Legolas tucked one braid behind his ear and said calmly, “What kind of foreplay was that?”

 

“Excuse me? We were arguing! Not —! ” Boromir sounded strangled. “What were you doing together, anyway?” Boromir asked suspiciously. 

 

Legolas shrugged. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. Galadriel had started stopping by often because, in her words, Legolas’s room was “the quietest corner of the hall.” 

 

Usually they enjoyed the silence together, Galadriel reading her books and Legolas working on whatever project he had to do. It was nice, in a way Legolas wasn’t sure he could describe. 

 

Legolas thought maybe some of it was that Galadriel, like him, didn’t really mingle easily. He could see her hovering hesitantly around the other residence groups, watching with a friendly yet unsure smile on her face. Once he realized this, Legolas felt bad. After all, the Lassos and Cattle had been formed without asking if she wanted to participate (because everyone had been afraid of her wrath). It was as if everyone had become close with everyone else, without her. 

 

And it wasn’t really fair to Galadriel, because while she put being an RA first and a friend second, she was really not an unpleasant person. Legolas enjoyed the quiet moments they shared together. And he was pretty sure Galadriel did, too. 

 

Legolas knew Boromir saw that side of Galadriel too, the more friendly, caring side, but he would let the man figure her out more by himself. This strange, innate chemistry they had was between them. 

 

“I was just busy persuading her that man-buns are attractive,” Legolas settled on saying, which made Boromir trip on the carpet. 

 

Legolas was still doubled over laughing when Bilbo answered his door. The short, young man’s normally pallid face was dusted into a deep, bronze tan, and his large, expressive eyes were alight with enthusiasm.

 

“Legolas! Boromir! Come in, come in,” Bilbo ushered them into the dorm room, which was already packed with people. Bilbo’s cousin, Frodo, was nestled comfortably in a pile of blankets on one side of the bed. Sam sat next to him, alternating between staring at the plant and making sure flu-ridden Frodo was alright. 

 

The plant in question was in a large, strangely lumpy pot in the middle of the room. Merry and Pippin sat around it, taking turns feeding bits of pizza to the leafy thing. It was a dark, angry red color but when it opened its — mouth? — the inside of its throat was a hot pink. 

 

Legolas didn’t know whether to be fascinated or disgusted. As the plant burped a piece of sausage out, he settled on disgusted. 

 

“Nice…souvenir from Europe, Bilbo,” Legolas commented faintly, watching as Kili (sitting on a beanbag chair with Fili) whistled softly at the plant. Kili’s nose was rather red, and his eyes a bit droopy, but other than that he didn’t look too bad. 

 

“Thank you!” Bilbo lit up, cheeks all aglow at the prospect of sharing his home with this strange creature. 

 

“Shouldn’t you all be in bed?” Boromir reminded Frodo and Kili, before taking a seat directly in front of the strange plant. 

 

“Too many interesting things happen outside of our room,” Merry grumbled lightly, before sticking crust in the plant’s direction. The plant swayed to nip at his wrist. Merry yanked his hand out of the way just in time. 

 

“It looks like something out of Harry Potter’s herbology class,” Sam commented in awe. Pippin snorted. 

 

“Nerd alert,” Pippin teased, which made Frodo frown. 

 

“What’s wrong with being a nerd? Nerds are cool. They know stuff,” Frodo insisted. Beside him, Sam blushed. Pippin traded a look with Merry, and they both burst out laughing.

 

“ _What?”_ Frodo scowled down at them, burrowing himself deeper into his blanket-house when they didn’t stop. 

 

“What’s going on, lads?” A red-head poked his head into the room curiously. Looming over him, tall, steady and silent, was a sight that made Legolas inhale sharply. 

 

Aragorn was standing in nothing but low-slung sweatpants, hair wet and mussed and clinging to the sides of his face. He must have just gotten out of the shower. His eyes were more grey than blue today, which shouldn’t throw Legolas off-balance as much as it did. 

 

Aragorn entered behind Gimli. The roommates looked eager to discover the source of the commotion. 

 

“What the heck is this!” Gimli exclaimed, beaming at the crazy plant. 

 

“Children, we’re all children,” Boromir muttered to Legolas from his perch at the windowsill. Legolas turned to him, laughing, as he leant more heavily against the sill. He looked up to see Gimli had joined the dilapidated circle round the plant. Aragorn was still standing near the doorway. 

 

In an inexplicable spurt of boldness, Legolas met his eye and beckoned the man over. Aragorn brightened and crossed the room in three long strides. He graced Legolas with an easy smile. 

 

After feeding various meat-related items to the plant (dubbed as “Fram” by Merry, who nearly cried laughing when Sam and Frodo both naively agreed it was a nice name, the sweet, oblivious buffoons) the conversation slowly turned to other things. 

 

Dwalin and Balin had joined recently, but had been wrested with the task of finding more food for Fram. Ori, another newcomer, sat with Sam and Frodo. Everyone was talking to everyone else, drifting in and out of conversation between groups. 

 

Presently, Legolas and Aragorn had joined Fram (the real “couple,” not the plant). Ori was engaging them in a debate about musical instruments. 

 

“How can you say the trumpet is your favorite instrument? It’s like, the easiest one. I would have pegged you for a violin kind of guy,” Frodo was saying to him, wide eyed and earnest. 

 

Ori spluttered. “You can’t judge favorites on level of difficulty! Besides, each instrument has their own obstacles when it comes to playing them. Trumpet isn’t necessarily easy.”

 

“Yes it is,” Sam chimed in, and Legolas knew for a _fact_ that Sam had never played trumpet in his life. 

 

“You’re just saying that because you want to agree with Frodo,” Ori pointed out accurately, making “Fram” jump and blush collectively. 

 

Legolas shared an amused look with Aragorn, but it didn’t last long. 

 

“Legolas, you can back me up right?” Ori implored him. “You told me you played violin before, on the day I first moved in.” Stomach sinking, Legolas remembered what he had said to the other boy.

 

“You play violin?” Aragorn asked him curiously, sounding impressed. Ori looked at Legolas expectantly. 

 

“Not anymore. I only did briefly,” Legolas said, hoping Ori would drop it after that. But he had no such luck. 

 

“So it can’t be compared to playing, say, the trumpet right? Because each instrument is unique,” Ori pressed. 

 

Legolas shrugged, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Sure, yeah, I’d agree with that.”

 

“Why’d you stop playing?” Frodo asked. Legolas reflexively brought a hand up to his temple before he could think about it. He winced, making Aragorn frown.

 

“It’s a long story,” Legolas said quickly, before hastening to add, “did you hear Fili is going to feed Merry toothpaste Oreos?”

 

That got them all talking again, forgetting all about violins. All except Aragorn, who was still scrutinizing him silently. 

 

“Are you okay?” Aragorn asked in a low voice, keeping an eye on the others in case they overheard. Legolas nodded, not wanting to worry the other man. He searched for an excuse, and remembered that this week would be the semester’s first archery tournament. 

 

“I have an archery competition this Tuesday…just a little nervous, I guess,” Legolas lied, feeling guilty when Aragorn nodded in understanding. Legolas wasn’t nervous about these things anymore. It was his third semester of competition. 

 

“An archery competition! That’s so cool!” Ori crowed suddenly. Legolas was grateful he hadn’t said the real reason to Aragorn, since clearly the others had been listening. 

 

“Yeah, can we come see? I’ve never gone to an archery tournament before,” Frodo enthused. “If you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he hastened to add. Legolas took in his bright, eager smile, feeling buoyant at its genuineness. 

 

“Of course. You’re all invited to come if you want,” Legolas said warmly. 

 

“Did you guys hear that? Legolas is competing this Tuesday! We’re going to come support him,” Ori addressed the room at large. Everyone turned, all with interested expressions.

 

“Sweet! I’m free Tuesday,” Gimli said excitedly. Dwalin and Balin nodded, arms full with their purchases.

 

“We should make posters, with his name on them,” Pippin said loudly to Merry, who gave him an evil, commiserating grin. Legolas couldn’t help but feel this was less a poster to support and perhaps more an opportunity to prank.

 

Only Kili looked upset. “I want to come,” he whined. His brother patted him on the head soothingly. 

 

“Are you really okay with us all coming?” Aragorn asked quietly. He had been the only one not voicing his immediate attendance at the tournament. 

 

“Yeah, I - I would like you guys to be there,” Legolas smiled at him. He meant it. 

 

Aragorn smiled back. It was slow, sure and sweet, and Legolas couldn’t help but fall headlong into it. 

 

———

 

Tuesday arrived with a drizzle. The sky was overcast and the air thick with fog. But it wasn’t a wholly unpleasant day, because the weekend had been almost too stiflingly sunny. Instead, it was a pleasant, cool morning that Legolas stepped into, bow in hand. 

Beside him, Aragorn groaned loudly. “If I’d known we’d be waking so early I’d have reconsidered this,” he moaned, jostling Legolas with his shoulder to show he was joking. Legolas surprised himself by _not_ being surprised. Aragorn’s touch wasn’t startling or unwelcome. 

 

He could really get used to this. Legolas jostled Aragorn back, laughing and ducking his attempts to mess with Legolas’s braids. They were waiting for the others to arrive, so they could all walk to the archery fields together. 

 

Boromir was the first to appear, clad in his usual casual ensemble of sweats and a tee. He watched Legolas’s interaction with Aragorn in surprise. Then Frodo and Sam followed. Finally, Galadriel appeared. 

 

“What’s she doing here?” Boromir whispered to Legolas, who ignored him in favor of smiling at the blonde. 

 

“Be nice,” Legolas said, hoisting his bow onto his back. “Is that everyone?”

 

“Yeah, the others have class,” Sam replied. Gimli in particular had been upset when he’d realized that Legolas’s tournament was on a weekday _morning,_ not night. Legolas was unsurprised that most of his friends would be busy at this time. He realized belatedly how odd this was, him and Aragorn, Frodo and Sam, Boromir and Galadriel…like a group date. 

 

_We couldn’t have made this more like a soap opera if we’d tried,_ he thought privately to himself.

 

They headed off to the archery fields. Boromir hung back, pretending like he wasn’t waiting for Galadriel as she stopped to tie her shoe. Frodo and Sam were discussing things excitedly. Legolas caught the words, _I googled archery last night_ and _them bows, though._ He stifled a smile.

 

“So, are you still nervous?” Aragorn asked him, hands in his pockets. He looked the picture of effortlessness, clad in dark clothing that accentuated the brightness of his blue eyes. 

 

_I_ _am now,_ Legolas thought, looking up at the other man. But aloud, he answered, “Sort of. I’ve gotten the hang of how to relax under pressure, though. I’m mostly looking forward to this.”

 

“I’m glad. I’m looking forward to this too, to see the sport that inspired your pagoda idea,” Aragorn grinned.

 

“Wha — how did you know that’s what inspired it?” Legolas asked, shocked. He couldn’t believe Aragorn had even remembered the detail, let alone what it meant. 

 

“Just hazarding a guess,” Aragorn replied, pulling off smug with ease and surprising grace. 

 

When they arrived at the fields, many people were already there. It wasn’t the biggest crowd, since archery wasn’t Mordor University’s main sport, but still. The faint thrums of adrenaline and excitement spurred Legolas on. 

 

“I’m going to go set up,” Legolas informed the others. “The stands are over there,” he pointed to a couple bleachers near the perimeter of the field. 

“Oh, and…thank you, guys. For coming. It really means a lot,” Legolas told them truthfully. He received smiles from all around, which filled him to the brim with warmth. 

 

“Of course,” Galadriel said, while Boromir nodded. “Anything for you, Leggy,” the tall man enthused, giving him a thumbs up.

 

“Good luck!” Sam called after him. 

 

Legolas went to the check-in booth to confirm his attendance, and get his competition number. He went over to the field and marked his spot, setting his bow down there and stretching. 

 

Legolas looked over at the bleachers, where his friends were just starting to settle in. Frodo and Sam sat in front of Galadriel and Boromir, who were taller and could be seated in the back row. Aragorn was next to Frodo, towering over the boy as he told him a joke. Legolas could hear Frodo’s laugh from all the way on the other side of the field. 

 

He felt his own chuckle bubble up in his chest at the jealous look on Sam’s face. 

 

Legolas scanned the rest of the crowd, recognizing friends and family members of his teammates. He was just about to look away when a head of blonde hair caught his eye. 

 

Legolas’s heart stopped in his chest. His breath caught, and for a second time seemed to stand still. Besides this person, there was only one other person who had hair that white-blonde naturally, and that was Legolas himself. 

 

No. It couldn’t be. 

 

And yet it was. Thranduil. Legolas’s father sat at the far edge of the bleachers, on the opposite end of his friends. As if Legolas was able to pull him in with one look, Thranduil turned…and caught Legolas’s eye. He rose one thin, arching eyebrow. Then he stood up, and started making his way down the bleachers.

 

_Why? Why is he here, and why now?_ Thranduil had never come to a single one of Legolas’s archery competitions. _A waste of time,_ he’d called them. _Not as suitable or productive as the violin._

 

Legolas’s heart hammered in his chest. He stood frozen, unable to do anything but watch Thranduil stalk across the field and over to his spot.

 

“Legolas.” The one word uttered from his father’s mouth made Legolas go ice cold inside. He tried not to let the apprehension flit across his face, but at Thranduil’s triumphant expression Legolas knew he had failed.

 

“What are you doing here, father?” Legolas asked, keeping his voice flat and neutral. 

 

“Is that any way to address the man who’s traveled hours across the country just to see his boy pluck a string?” Thranduil’s tone was dismissive. He hadn’t come to support Legolas. _No, of course not._

 

“If you wanted to see a boy pluck a string, you could have searched up the guitar on youtu — ”

 

_“Legolas.”_ Thranduil’s eyes were snapping, his tone fiery. “Is this how you’re going to spend your tuition money? Wasting time staring at a target?”

 

Legolas shrank, he visibly shrank into himself. “I’m good at it,” he insisted, hating how small his voice sounded.

 

“Oh? And who is going to pay money for an archer? This is a useless endeavor.”

 

“I don’t do it for the money. I’ve told you this, and this time, my tuition is paid for by _me._ So you don’t have to worry about — ”

 

“You? You think supporting yourself with one semester’s worth of college means anything? That it’s some sort of great accomplishment? I’ve been supporting you for your _entire life, boy,”_ Thranduil spat, inching closer to loom over Legolas. Like a dark cloud, doubts and fears started to creep over Legolas’s mind, but he forced them back.

 

“I’m sorry you don’t agree with this, father, but it’s truly not any of your business anymore.” Legolas didn’t know where his words were coming from. He felt sky high, rocketing over Thranduil to a place where his father could never touch him ever again.

 

“None of my business? Everything you’ve ever done is my business. Everything you are is because of _me._ Your little temper tantrum,” here Thranduil arced one hand over the field, “is small and insignificant. Whatever you accomplish here today will only mean something to you.”

 

_And isn’t that enough?_ Legolas thought. His heart beat fast, in time to his thoughts: _it is, it is, it is._ But he couldn’t say it aloud, not anymore. He didn’t know what it was he was supposed to do, to convince his father that he was his own person now. He wasn’t sure why he should. Thranduil would never change. 

 

“Furthermore,” Thranduil said, pausing before delivering the heavy blow, “this sport is obviously not even dear to your heart. It’s just a perpetuation of a sterotype.”

 

“What?” Legolas said, dread coiling in his belly. For the first time since Thranduil had approached him, he risked a glance around. No one was watching the exchange with much interest, not suspecting anything. But then he saw that Boromir was looking over at them with horror in his eyes, nearly standing up in his attempt to help. Legolas shook his head slightly, desperate to keep his friend away from Thranduil. One damaged person was enough. 

 

Thranduil caught the look. Legolas should have known he would. 

 

“See what I mean?” Thranduil scoffed. “You and that — man. Colluding together. What is he, your…boyfriend?” Thranduil’s face twisted at the word. “Is that why you’re doing this, Legolas? To impress him?”

 

“What? No!” Legolas was shocked. Before, had Thranduil been trying to say archery was a gay sport? Was that what he’d meant by perpetuating stereotypes? 

 

“Then who is that man?” Thranduil asked. “Who is he to you?”

 

“He’s a friend,” Legolas said, but Thranduil snorted before he could even finish. 

 

“You disgust me,” he said coldly, before stalking away. Legolas stood rooted on the field, eyes blurring until his father was a mere grey dot amidst the green field. Legolas suddenly felt like he was ten years old again. Then, Legolas had performed a song on the violin for his father who had said the exact same phrase after Legolas made a small mistake. Thranduil had hit Legolas over the head with the violin, breaking the bow on Legolas’s skull. 

 

He was insignificant, a single straw in the haystack. No one would care if he went missing.

 

_That’s not true,_ Legolas tried to tell himself. _You have people who care for you now. People you’ve met, all on your own. People you care about, too._

 

People who weren’t Thranduil. 

 

But it didn’t matter just then. Legolas heard his number be called up. It was his turn to compete. But he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. Why had his father come, if only to say all those horrible things? Why did he always have to come when he was least wanted? And why couldn’t Legolas stop caring about what he said? 

 

_Stop! Stop thinking about it. So what if you like archery? Or if you’re gay? That’s your business. Not his. Not his._

 

But Thranduil was right. He’d raised Legolas alone ever since Legolas’s mom died when he was just a baby. Thranduil had provided for him, and encouraged him to do things. And excel in fields that _were_ productive…what did Legolas’s passion in archery matter, when Thranduil put it that way? 

 

Was Legolas disgusting, for wanting to do what he did, and love whom he loved? 

 

He raised his eyes to the bleachers, where Frodo and Sam were holding up a large neon sign that read, _Legolas Greenleaf is the Archery Chief._ It made no sense, but it rhymed, which is what Sam had triumphantly told Legolas yesterday. 

 

Legolas knew he should be comforted by the sight, but instead he was crippled by fear. Would Sam and Frodo think him disgusting, too? 

 

A rational part of Legolas’s mind told him _how could that be?_ Frodo liked Sam, clearly, and they were both men. They wouldn’t judge him, how could they? 

 

But Legolas peered over to the side, where Thranduil stood watching. Waiting, for Legolas to fail, yet again. 

 

_I can do this. I can prove him wrong._ Legolas drew back his arrow. Stretched his arm taut. Breathed deep. 

 

And missed. 

 

A collective gasp went up from the bleachers as Legolas’s arrow deviated from its course. It missed the target completely. Legolas’s eyes went wide. He automatically looked to his right, where Thranduil stood. His father nodded, as if confirming what he’d already expected. Then he turned heel and walked off.

 

“No,” Legolas whispered. He saw Aragorn looked shocked, and Boromir and Galadriel whispering furiously amongst themselves. Frodo and Sam looked disappointed in him, and that was what really did it. 

 

_“No,”_ Legolas repeated, louder this time, furious. The commentator made his remarks, “Number 5 disqualified. Repeat, disqualification for number 5, please walk off the field.”

 

Legolas dropped his bow and sprinted off the field, hot in pursuit of his father. Fear threatened to overwhelm him, but creeping steadily in its place was a white hot anger. How dare his father come and ruin this? Legolas had supported himself and found his place amongst friends. He would not go back to who he’d used to be. 

 

Thranduil was waiting for him behind the bleachers. “See, Legolas? You still need me,” was the first thing his father said.

 

“I do not need you!” Legolas yelled, making Thranduil startle back. Invigorated at the response, Legolas continued.

 

“I might have been disqualified, but I _am_ a good archer. And I’m not saying because I’m not humble, but because I’m sure of who I am.” Legolas stood on shaking legs. He was vibrating so hard he could hardly speak. But speak he would. 

 

Thranduil still looked to shocked to retaliate yet. Legolas pressed on, feeling a flood of emotions and words in him that he’d built up without realizing. He couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. 

 

“I am _not_ going to go back to being your project of a son! I miss Mother too, _I miss her everyday,_ but that is _not an excuse!”_ Legolas shouted. 

 

“How dare you!” Thranduil screamed, throwing one fist forward. Legolas caught it mid-swing, right before it would have collided into his face. Thranduil stared, as if he didn’t know his son was capable of blocking a hit. 

 

Legolas’s hands shook with the force of keeping Thranduil at bay. “Boromir is not my boyfriend, but even if he was, I won’t stop loving him because of you! You may have ruined today, but you will _not ruin things ever again._ I don’t need you. But _you_ need _me.”_ Legolas knew it to be true. His father was so empty he needed someone to control, to manipulate, if only to feel more secure about the overwhelming unpredictability of life. After Legolas’s mother was taken from Thranduil, that is who the man had become. _But that was not an excuse to treat others like this!_

 

“Legolas!” Aragorn and the others had rounded the bleachers. They must have come looking for him after he’d run off. After that horrible shot he’d made. Any lingering embarrassment over the blunder suddenly vanished when Legolas caught the worried look on Aragorn’s face.   


“You — ! _You can’t run away from what you are,”_ Thranduil spluttered violently, ignoring their audience. He was still wrestling with Legolas’s grip. Boromir lurched forward at the sight. 

 

“Hey!” He yelled, while Galadriel’s eyes shone fiercely like a storm. But Aragorn got to them first. 

 

“You’re right,” Legolas said Thranduil, raising his chin high. “I can’t. This is who I am, who I was born as. And that is nothing to be ashamed of.” Hot tears coursed down his face, but this time Legolas did not feel weak. He felt afraid, but it was not a horrible fear. It was the excitement of the unknown, of future possibilities. 

 

Aragorn was suddenly by his side. “Get off of him,” he hissed, voice low and deadly. Thranduil’s eyes flickered to Aragorn’s and back, and there was something unvoiced there that Legolas saw — _him? It’s him?_ Thranduil was thinking. 

 

But Thranduil suddenly dropped his fist. What he had silently thought he left unsaid. Maybe Legolas had gotten through to him. Or maybe Thranduil was just tired of trying to convince his son of something that would never be. 

 

Something just on the edge of regret flickered over Thranduil’s face. But he said no apologies. 

 

“Come home,” Thranduil said, his voice breaking slightly in the middle. Legolas was suddenly reminded that Thranduil was supposed to be his father. 

 

“No.” Legolas stood his ground. He watched as Thranduil wrestled with his emotions, before finally turning and walking away from his son. As soon as Thranduil was out of sight, all the energy drained out of Legolas’s body. His knees buckled under him, and he collapsed onto the ground. 

 

“Legolas!” Aragorn exclaimed, dipping down to meet his face. He searched Legolas’s eyes, seeming to find something there before pulling his arms around Legolas. Legolas stiffened, then relaxed into him. 

 

“That was my father,” Legolas informed Aragorn through gasping breaths. Legolas realized that he was laughing, an almost hysterical edge to it. Aragorn tightened his grip on his shoulders.

 

“That was not a father, not in my eyes,” Aragorn said into his ear. He sounded pained. 

 

Boromir and Galadriel had caught up to them now, Frodo and Sam right behind the two. 

 

“What’s going on? Are you alright, Legolas?” Sam asked in concern, popping his head over the taller two. 

 

Legolas kept laughing. He probably looked like an insane person. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, and the laughter was from shock but also — also…he felt strangely free. Not the way he had when he’d become an RA to support himself…not the way he had when he’d told Thranduil he was gay before fleeing the household… _really free._ This time, he was really free. 

 

“I’m fine,” he gasped out, still boneless and tired. His face was sticky with tears that he didn’t even bother trying to hide. “I’m really, really fine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: homophobia, homophobic language, ignorance, insecurities, manipulation, violent behavior... And a whole lotta random shinanigans about archery...not sure how those actual tournaments happen tbh. (Remember folks, there is no such thing as a "gay sport," and that kind of language is just ridiculous. Thranduil is just ridiculous.) 
> 
> I really do appreciate your comments and support. You guys are always positive and encouraging and I'm grateful...when real life stops kicking my butt I'll try to polish this chapter more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this intro chapter, please comment and let me know if I should continue or if this trashy fic is actual trash! Pls be nice, I’m just trying to live the peaceful life of a nerdy sloth. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> *freshman fifteen = the term coined for incoming freshmen at uni who gain 5-15 lb their first year away from home (due to the lack of parental supervision and the expensiveness of college tuition and the cheapness of ramen noodles and the niceness of taking the bus instead of walking).


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